Today, Burundi is perhaps the least known country in all of Africa. Situated on the map between two giant African nations in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Tanzania and overshadowed by the more popular neighbor to the north in Rwanda, little is known at the global level the history, events, and even culture of Burundi. And, when the country at the heart of Africa gets a semblance of Western attention–much less global attention–it is usually maligned–filtered through the lens of Eurocentrism and nullification. This makes Burundi a near-impossible topic to cover–leaving more questions than answers as to comprehend her current problems and challenges in the midst of crisis. For decades now journalists, reporters, and observers move in and out of Africa’s Great Lakes region compiling data, updating on current events, documenting statistics for demographics and even following donor monies. What is often missing in reports after reports, updates after updates, statistic after statistic, soundbite after soundbite, commentary after commentary are the nuances, the voices, the perspectives, the language, the long-winded stories, the complexities. Yes–even a country as small as Burundi, as marginalized as Burundi, as distant as Burundi and to the peripheral as Burundi can be a very complex subject matter that often requires delicate measures to sift by and patience to observe and document.
In 2015 Burundi was thrust on the marginal world stage when reaction to President Pierre Nkurunziza’s bid for a third term as head of state turned violent forcing protestors and police alike to arm, attack, and defend while fearful Burundians in the tens of thousands panicked and uprooted themselves in flight for refuge to neighboring countries. The litmus test of 2015 was the gauge to see how far Burundi has, indeed, evolved and how effective was her transition to democratic order following a protracted and bloody, 12-year civil war. As early as the president’s announcement confirming all rumors for a run at a third term as president reports of “ethnic tension rising”, a “fall back into civil war” and “potential genocide” were echoed in media reports, news articles, political commentary and online blogs. A failed coup a month after the president’s announcement led to a litany of negative reporting that continued through the end of the year conveniently inscribed as the “Burundian Crisis”. In the Western media culture where “what bleeds leads” Burundi has all the elements worthy to document–old wounds among ethnic lines were beginning to re-open, enemies from the bush were resurfacing with another generation of in-fighters, tit-for-tat political assassinations occurred, huge flight of refugees in the tens of thousands were spilling across Burundi’s neighboring borders monthly, protestors clashed violently with police, tortures were employed by the military, surveillance in photo images and video captured mass graves, gunshots became commonplace after nightfall, disappearances became the norm, dead bodies lied in the streets of Bujumbura and some floating down rivers and lakes in the provinces. There was plenty for reporters, journalists, commentators, and analysts to work with through all platforms for disseminating–radio, online, television broadcast, and even films (VICE Media having tread the scenes of Burundi). All of these nightmarish reporting–whether true or not–does little to understand the who, what, where, when, why, and how on Burundi and her current landscape. Such a landscape like so much of reality is painted gray revealing a complex dimension that has yet to be explored thoroughly beyond black-and-white dichotomies of good versus evil. Reconciling the facts based on a deep history of Burundian society is at the heart of helping the country. This is a must from those within Burundi and among those abroad.