In recent years, the citizens of Sierra Leone have gathered in village compounds around bonfires, spoken openly of brutalities inflicted on them during their 11 years of civil war, and heard apologies by some of those who did the brutalizing.

To the amazement of growing numbers of observers from around the world,��the result has been forgiveness and reconciliation and rebuilding, village by village, on a scale never before achieved.

These heartfelt conversations have been nurtured under a program called Fambul Tok (Krio for “family talk”), led by John Caulker, a human rights activist in Sierra Leone.

Fambul Tok began in the summer and fall of 2007, when John Caulker received the backing of Libby Hoffman and her Maine-based foundation Catalyst for Peace to develop a grassroots answer to the high-level, highly expensive UN-backed Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Sierra Leone.

Caulker, who had lobbied for the creation of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, was deeply disappointed in how little it accomplished, after it spent more than $300 million on highly publicized trials of nine men. In contrast, Caulker wanted to help heal the lives of the average person in often-rural communities where neighbors looked suspiciously at neighbors, and even family members were divided by what some had done during wartime.

Hoffman caught the spirit of Caulker’s vision and worked with him – and with a few people at 91����Ƶ’s Center for Justice and Peacebuilding, where she had attended SPI 1996 and returned for a course in 2000 – to design core elements, objectives and operating principles for Fambul Tok. Amy Potter Czajkowski, MA ’02, and Robert Roche, MA ’08, were program officers for Fambul Tok during its formative stages.

On June 11, 2013, Caulker was the Frontier Luncheon speaker at SPI. He treated his audience to an inspiring account of how a small ripple can, when patiently fanned, grow into a rising tide across the nation.

At SPI 2014, two rising leaders in Fambul Tok – women’s leader Michaela Ashwood and former pastor Emmanuel Mansaray – studied conflict analysis, psychosocial trauma, and organizational leadership. They are being prepared to step up as Caulker transitions from leading Fambul Tok in Sierra Leone to playing a wider peacebuilding role under the auspices of the African Union.

“From the very word go, we’ve made Fambul Tok a community-owned and community-led process,” said Ashwood, who has worked with Caulker for seven years. “We only support. They’ve heard about Fambul Tok on the radio, so they already know something about us. We may provide a bag of rice [for the community gathering], but they provide the goat or fish and fresh vegetables.”

Mansarary added, “We work at the level of the man in the village whose neighbor might have been the one who burned down his house, amputated his son and raped his wife.”

Everyone is longing for the opportunity to tell their stories, said Mansaray. “The victims have stories they want to tell, and so do the perpetrators,” who often talk of being drugged or otherwise forced to do horrible things when they ask for forgiveness.

Fambul Tok now has groups of women, called Peace Mothers (led by Ashwood), who are active in election campaigns and in schools, doing education and dousing sparks of conflicts before they become raging fires. This represents a change in Sierra Leone’s culture, where traditionally women had no voice.

Future plans include spreading peacebuilding principles through Sierra Leone’s schools to address violence that seems to be growing among the young – who lack a memory of the horrific civil war endured by their elders – and to lay the groundwork for enduring cooperation in future generations.

In 2013-14 Fambul Tok was operating in six out of the country’s 14 districts. In each of the six districts they have an office staffed by four, plus a security person. At its national headquarters there are 18 staffers. Catalyst for Peace remains the main funder for Fambul Tok, including funding Ashwood’s and Mansaray’s studies at SPI 2014. ��

The heavy heat of the tropical afternoon sun was almost as oppressive as the news of ‘blanket amnesty’ being granted to all the rebel factions who had fought in the vicious 12-year civil war in Sierra Leone, West Africa. I was with the Sierra Leone refugee community in 2001, “sitting in the fire” of the shock of this BBC announcement of total impunity as it crackled and sputtered out of portable, transistor radios clutched to the ears of the refugees. In silence, I searched for understanding in the haunted and tearing eyes of my refugee friends and colleagues – people who had seen their families killed in front of their eyes, who had their villages pillaged and burned, many who had their arms and legs amputated in horrific campaigns of terror perpetrated by the rebels. These were a broken, heavy-hearted, and traumatized people. They were tired of war.

As these refugee friends begin to respond the news some of their eyes sparked with flashes of rage and vengeance – “If these rebels enter my village, I will kill them!” While many others, their eyes glazed with a hollow stare, shrugged their shoulders in wearied resignation saying, “What can we do, this is the only way to have peace – we must figure out how to live together somehow.” The injustice of blanket amnesty brought with it another ‘blanket’ of heavy apathy about the future. The polarizing and paralyzing emotions of revenge on the one hand, and apathy on the other were thick in the air.

Unable to bridge this emotive chasm, I left the refugee gathering with a heavy heart, wrestling with my own anger, despair and despondency. In that dark night I cried out to God, “There has got to be a better way – this is not justice – where is real justice in this all?” The very foundations of a nation like Sierra Leone struggling to rebuild itself will crumble if its future generations are consigned to act off of a narrative script of ‘justified revenge’ or ‘resigned apathy’. I needed a glimpse of another way – another path between violence and hopelessness.

The Sierra Leonean refugees were crying out for justice. The question is: How is justice truly satisfied? What does justice require? What does justice feel like? Many say justice meets violence with violence (retributive). Others have numbed their psyches feeling powerless that there is nothing they can do (justice as fate – a Divine command or a Natural Law). Still others understand justice as social fairness, rights-based egalitarianism and the search for the maximization of the “common good” (a kind of Utilitarian or Distributive Justice). Elements of all these conceptions of justice permeate the guiding principles of what is now termed “Transitional Justice” – a burgeoning field of systematic justice that aims to reconstruct the human and material capital of societies that have experienced mass atrocities.

In its best form, Transitional Justice should be “restorative” in its nature. The field of Restorative Justice as an academic discipline and as a global practice movement is relatively young (early 1970s, see link below) with its contemporary origins rooted in experiments in alternative criminal diversion in Canada.�� However, in many ways it is simply a revitalization of ancient practices of justice not too far distant in each of our own cultural traditions, but eclipsed by our current Western justice system. Restorative Justice is concerned with right relationships and the reconstruction of community and collective harmony after an outbreak of violence. It is a justice that demands accountability (recognizing the harm and taking responsibility), making clear that no act that destroys the dignity of humanity goes unnoticed. However, along with this accountability it always creates an avenue for restoration (equalizing power and addressing future intentions through restitution, reparations and reconciliation). Instead of a justice system that is obsessed with apportioning blame and shame, and administering pain and isolation, restorative justice seeks to heal the harms of victims, rehabilitate offenders and reintegrate both of them into community networks of support as a safeguard of justice. It is simple, but never easy.

In these troubled times we can easily find ourselves on either end of the polemic of revenge or apathy in response to our political and legal justice needs. However, there is a third way – an innovative alternative process of Restorative Transitional Justice that utilizes the social, spiritual, and cultural resources of communities to transform individuals and societies who have been affected by severe violence. This is truly our only viable option for the future. Generational justice requires that we leverage a restorative approach that is able to respond to a death-dealing world with a life-giving reality. This is our hope for justice amidst the rubble.

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[, PhD (MA ’02), is Assistant Professor of Development and Justice Studies at 91����Ƶ’s . Originally from the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia (US), Carl worked for 16 years with Mennonite Central Committee at peacebuilding efforts across the African continent, particularly in southern Africa.]

On a warm late-March evening, two young Sierra Leonean men gathered at a village bonfire, surrounded by family members, elders, and neighbors. Once close friends, Sahr and Nyumah had been torn apart while in their teens by Sierra Leone’s 11-year civil war. One boy was forced by rebel soldiers to brutally beat and maim his friend. The two came face to face that night. One man testified about his suffering; the other admitted his guilt and begged for forgiveness – which, in an astonishing act of grace, was freely given. The village sang and danced in celebration.

Sahr and Nyumah are not alone. Part of a groundbreaking new national initiative called Fambul Tok (Krio for Family Talk), similar acts of truth-telling and reconciliation are taking place between victims and offenders in villages across Sierra Leone.

Sahr and Nyumah’s experience – and the experiences of others like them – illustrates the ways in which “thinking small” may be the key to acting big. That is, working at the smallest possible level – the individual and the social unit closest to the individual, the village – may be the key to building a sustainable national peace in war-devastated nations in Africa.

Launch of Fambul Tok

The foundation I head, Catalyst for Peace, aims to forward peacebuilding by helping conflict-ridden areas draw on their local resources and culture to build peace. We are partnering with Forum of Conscience, a Sierra Leonean NGO headed by John Caulker, in designing and implementing Fambul Tok. Caulker, who fled his home and lost his mother during the war in Sierra Leone, spent well over a decade as a courageous voice for human rights during the war years. He has been a committed activist in the rebuilding process, giving voice to those who suffered most during the war.

When I first met Caulker last summer, he was at a point of utter frustration with the postwar reconstruction in his country. Having lobbied earlier for the creation of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Sierra Leone, he was disappointed with how little actual reconciliation it accomplished in the end. He felt the Commission had largely conducted its work in the country’s political centers, and used processes that made it difficult for many Sierra Leoneans to participate.

He also questioned the impact of the UN-backed Special Court in Sierra Leone, which has spent more than $300 million to try the nine men held most responsible for the war. “The people of my country live on less than a dollar a day, yet hundreds of millions are being spent on trials that will not make any difference at all to the average person,” said Caulker.

In an effort to help heal the lives of the average person, Caulker and I began to work together to shape his vision for a community-based reconciliation process, which evolved into the program now known as Fambul Tok. The heart of the Fambul Tok process involves community members gathering around a bonfire and talking, as they did long ago. Victims and offenders have the opportunity to come forward and tell their stories. They can ask for forgiveness or offer forgiveness, as they choose.

The next day a “cleansing ceremony” – often involving appeasing the ancestors – is held at a site that holds special, often sacred, significance for the locals, such as a particular rock, tree, or dwelling. Often a fowl or goat is killed during this ceremony. Almost all communities in Sierra Leone have such commonly recognized places and rituals, yet the process of using them was also a casualty of the war.

Finally, the community designates a “peace tree” surrounded by a seating area to serve as a permanent meeting place to resolve conflicts using the principles of Fambul Tok. It also serves as the site of a radio “listening club.” Battery-operated radios are provided for people to listen together to a half-hour weekly broadcast of locally recorded Fambul Tok stories. The Fambul Tok theme song, played on the radio broadcast, is already sung through much of Sierra Leone.

Some communities have gone on to develop other joint projects, such as community farms where everyone pitches in, or soccer events for the children.

Emergent Design

The rapid development of Fambul Tok (work only began on the ground in December of 2007) is due to several factors, one of which is the unique partnership Catalyst for Peace and Forum of Conscience have forged. In our early conversations, Caulker and I realized that implementing his vision of community-based reconciliation in Sierra Leone would likely require a robust collaboration – an unusual relationship between a “funder” and a “recipient” in peacebuilding.

I myself was a peacebuilding practitioner for 15 years before making a transition to the funding side in 2003 as the founder and president of Catalyst for Peace. I didn’t want to step away from direct involvement in the practice side. I recognized that, with Fambul Tok, actively bringing my peacebuilding sensibilities and grounding in the field could contribute to Caulker’s skills, while tapping into his established credibility and network of relationships. It could lead to a nationally transformative process.

At Catalyst we don’t simply read grant proposals, issue funds, and read the reports sent back by those we fund. We participate in project design and implementation, go into the field ourselves, and bring in expertise from other individuals or organizations when useful, in response to needs that emerge on the ground. This kind of close collaboration on Fambul Tok has allowed us to respond quickly to local realities and to work together to finetune our practices.

I call our design process “emergent design,” in that we build upon core elements, objectives and operating principles, but we leave room for flexibility and creativity in implementing them. Those of us from outside of Sierra Leone feel it is important not to arrive in the country with a preconceived program for a local entity to implement on our behalf. This is also the spirit the implementers on the ground in Sierra Leone embrace – it’s not their program, but rather it belongs to the people of Sierra Leone. The results from local ownership are inspiring.

Sahr, Nyumah, Reconcile

In the case of Sahr and Nyumah, both stood before the village bonfire in Gbekedu as the first step in their healing journey. The boyhood friends were barely teenagers when the rebel Revolutionary United Front invaded their village near the Liberian border. Sahr spoke of how the rebels ordered him to kill his father and of how he refused repeatedly.

As a result, Nyumah, also taken by the rebels, was ordered under threat of death to beat his friend. He complied, beating Sahr so severely that even today Sahr’s body remains misshapen – he is able to walk only with great difficulty, supported by a cane.

Living since the end of the war in villages just a mile or so apart, the former friends had not spoken about these events until the evening last March around the bonfire. Acknowledging what he had done, Nyumah asked Sahr for forgiveness, while bowing in a gesture of humility and apology. Sahr immediately gave his forgiveness. Villagers broke into song and dance around the bonfire as the young men hugged.

The next day, upon learning that Sahr’s father had also been killed that day in the bush, our documentary filmmaker, Sara Terry, gently queried Nyumah about what had happened to Sahr’s father, asking the question lingering in everyone’s mind: Had Nyumah killed him? Misery was etched on Nyumah’s face. Terry recalls:

…the young man said, very softly, yes. I was watching Sahr; he didn’t flinch at the news, didn’t move away from his friend. In a few minutes, I turned to Sahr and asked him how he felt. He was very direct and simple in his reply: “I forgive him everything.” Nyumah swooped into a bow at his friend’s feet. “I want this forgiveness to last forever and ever,” Sahr added. And then they started to shake hands – the handshake turned into an embrace. The two started walking back up the path into the village – Nyumah in front of Sahr, who was struggling a bit as he walked behind. Nyumah turned back. They put their arms around each other and walked back into the village together.

To see film clip on Fambul Tok, visit .

Eager To Heal Wounds

Sahr and Nyumah’s experience exemplifies a broader national consensus around a desire and readiness for reconciliation. “Yes, we are ready” was the overwhelming response we received in every district during the national consultation process that launched the Fambul Tok program, an eagerness that far exceeded our expectations. Representatives at every consultation acknowledged the unhealed wounds of war, as well as the difficult realities of having perpetrators and victims living side by side. It was also clear the communities had local cultural traditions and practices of reconciliation, dormant since the war, that they were eager to awaken and use for social healing. As a rule, these practices were geared toward reintegrating perpetrators into the community, rather than alienating them through punishment or retribution.

Perhaps most remarkable, the towns that participated in the pilot phase of Fambul Tok this spring and summer viewed the program as being theirs, rather than being imported (or imposed) from the outside. With local leadership and design, no two ceremonies have been alike, nor will they be. They have common elements, though, including a snowballing effect whereby the first set of encounters between offenders and victims – characterized by confession, contrition, and forgiveness – are usually followed by many more in the group.

Though the recipe for Fambul Tok depends on the locals, Catalyst for Peace realizes that outsiders serve a valuable role, akin to yeast helping the dough rise. “We’re here to walk the participants though the process initially,” says Catalyst field program officer Robert Roche, MA ’08, who is based full time in Sierra Leone. “In a way, we validate the process. But once it gets going, they make it theirs.” (More about Roche in the sidebar “Outsider Suited to Fambul Tok.”)

The Fambul Tok program is expected to spread nationwide by the end of 2009, with ceremonies reaching every village over the next five years. This is an ambitious project, considering it may take Roche and the Sierra Leonean nationals he works with 10 to 20 hours to travel from their base in the capital city of Freetown to some outlying districts, often over routes that are basically bumpy footpaths.

Yet we believe everyone in Sierra Leone needs to engage in the healing process, wherever they are. The people of Sierra Leone are moving toward acknowledging and accepting what went wrong in their community and, by extension, their country. They are re-discovering their power, their goodness and their capacity to contribute to their society in helpful and healthy ways. They are finding a way to start anew, in the process helping their country do the same.

[Elisabeth “Libby” Hoffman is president and founder of , established in 2003 near Hoffman’s home in Maine. Libby holds an MALD from The Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University and a BA in political science from Williams College. She attended the 1996 session of 91����Ƶ’s Summer Peacebuilding Institute and completed an 91����Ƶ course on conflict transformation taught by John Paul Lederach in 2000. She has been active in conflict resolution and peacebuilding for nearly 20 years as a professor, trainer, practitioner and funder. This article was adapted with permission from a longer article that appeared in the summer 2008 issue of The Fletcher Forum of World Affairs. The source article is posted at .]

Robert Roche, , brings unique qualifications to his role as field program officer for U.S.-based Catalyst for Peace, serving as a “technical advisor” to the Fambul Tok process.

The son of an American man employed by Catholic Relief Services and a Congolese woman, Roche spent his first 14 years living in seven African countries. His mother made a point of speaking to him in French and the dialect of her family, while his father made sure he was versed in English.

“I understand the extended family involved in the Fambul Tok process and the respect for elders,” says Roche. “That’s how it was when I was growing up. If it was a close friend of my mom, I called her aunt.”

Yet he knows he is viewed as an outsider in Sierra Leone – well, anywhere he goes in Africa, actually. “My eyes are not brown and my skin color is not dark enough for me to blend in. And I don’t speak the way anybody speaks here.”

He is ideally suited, however, to his role as facilitator. It taps his cross-cultural background, comfort with Africa’s variety, and his CJP training in trauma healing, mediation, group processes, conflict analysis and restorative justice.

“Everything I learned at CJP I am using. We [trained at CJP] are really knowledgeable compared to many other people I meet working in this field. I don’t want to be biased, but I think that’s the truth.”

Another CJP person involved directly in Fambul Tok is Amy Potter, MA ’02, associate director of CJP’s Practice and Training Institute. As the overall Fambul Tok program officer for Catalyst, she has been integral to the design and implementation of the program.