Chapter One
IN THE PROVINCE of Kibungo, in eastern Rwanda, in the
swamp- and pastureland near the Tanzanian border, there's a
rocky hill called Nyarubuye with a church where many Tutsis were
slaughtered in mid-April of 1994. A year after the killing I went
to Nyurabuye with two Canadian military officers. We flew in a
United Nations helicopter, traveling low over the hills in the morning
mists, with the banana trees like green starbursts dense over
the slopes. The uncut grass blew back as we dropped into the
center of the parish schoolyard. A lone solider materialized with
his Kalashnikov, and shook our hands with stiff, shy formality. The
Canadians presented the paperwork for our visit, and I stepped
up into the open doorway of a classroom.
At least fifty mostly decomposed cadavers covered the floor,
wadded in clothing, their belongings strewn about and smashed.
Macheted skulls had rolled here and there.
The dead looked like pictures of the dead. They did not smell.
They did not buzz with flies. They had been killed thirteen months
earlier, and they hadn't been mo ... read full excerpt from: We Wish to Inform You that Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families ebook
