Last week I saw a documentary about a British woman who married a man from Congo. In Congo they wanted to build a hotel.
But when she was out of Congo for a while the war between the Hutu's and Tutsi's broke out. Her husband was killed with a machete knife. Slaughtered just like tens of thousands of other inhabitants.
Later the woman traveled to places where the atrocities took place. There she met a man who killed among dozens other people her best friend in Congo. She stared in his eyes, the viewer could see the regret in the murderer's eyes and she forgave him. The murderer thanked her, but didn't sink to the floor or just kneel, no they shook hands.
After that she tried to find the murderer of her husband. Maybe she found him (murderers were mainly men) in a prison. He said that he didn't know her husband but he gave details about his last day alive only some individuals knew partly.
That the prisoner denied the killing mattered to her I think. But she knew he did it. Not being able to forgive is a burden that one carries a whole live. When forgiven, one can give it a place in one's heart.
