Citation
CASUAL murder and the stench of genocide lurk round every turn in the
greenery of the Rwanda countryside.
The national trauma springs vicious surprises and small incidents of
heroism that go almost unnoticed, like the old, ragged man I saw beaten
and ground underfoot before being finished off behind trees without a
sound passing his lips.
It was a silent torture hardly noticed. There was no screaming abuse,
just an indifference at such unrewarding sport in Rwanda's temporary
capital.
Another soldier sauntered towards the man and ground the heel of his
boot on to the arch of the old man's foot. Still not a sound. Survivors
of the mainly Hutu-on-Tutsi massacres had said that they did not show
their feelings, to deny their killers the satisfaction of seeing their
fear.
The soldiers tired of the old man and handed him over to civilians,
armed with machetes, staves and clubs. When the group reached the end
of a path between tall sorghum plants, it turned out of sight.
Not far. A few plants went into a sudden spasm as he was murdered, in
the grounds of the Kabgayi Catholic seminar, still without a sound.
He was one of seven people to die outside the refugee camps around the
cathedral. Five others were shot as they walked the ten yards between a
clinic and their shacks. Aid workers fear that up to 500,000 Tutsi and
moderate Hutu may have suffered a similar fate.
The Hutu headmistress of a local high school who had complained about
the rape of her pupils was hacked to death, as was another woman who
had the misfortune to look like the teacher.
Foreigners are not immune from such random threats. Pointing to me in
the back of the car, a drunken tribesman tapped the bloodied head of
his club and said: Is this man a Belgian?
The militia hate Belgians.
Does he look like he eats chips? He's too skinny.
The joke earns a
guffaw, and we are free to crawl to the next roadblock manned by men
with sharpened sticks, burning logs and bicycle spokes. You have to
laugh, or else you cry. Around bullies, if you cry you die,
said the
priest who is my guide.
