We are Rwandan;
But We are despised Tutsis.
Our nation, ravaged and ruined.
Our people, bred with hatred for their brethren.
From birth we are conditioned
To despise man, woman
And child based on
Appearances only.
We once stood together
As one nation
Now, here among the ruins
We once called Rwanda,
We are shown no mercy.
Bodies carpet the dirt road
Either dead, or barely alive.
Women, children; none are
Spared.
To be a Tutsi
Is to be
A Cockroach,
An unwanted infestation
Of this nation;
An insect to be squashed
Beneath the feet of the Hutus.
Death is not what We
Fear;
Rather, a life of torture
And unexpected spurts of violence.
Like a thief in the night
They come to steal, kill And destroy;
They take joy in their
Mission;
They have been brainwashed
By the loud voices of the Important.
Our voices
Are silenced;
Our bones are all that remain.
But even they will be Forgotten;
Our bones will become
The dust of the Earth
Crushed beneath the
Footsteps of our enemies;
Our bones will support
Their weight.
Visible scars remain on the faces
Of those who survived
That terrible Genocide.
But the scars which run the deepest
Are those that cannot be seen.
Mere words cannot tell the story
None will ever know the pain
The suffering
The anguish
The turmoil
Unless they themselves had lived it.
Only the young boy
Left orphaned;
The young woman
Left without her dignity and a card
Reading HIV positive
Only the man lying
Bleeding to death
In a ditch
Will ever know
The gut-wrenching reality and the
Unbelievable horrors
Of the Genocide in Rwanda.
Their memory lives on
In books, and on grave stones.
We all look upon the events in such horror
Yet, does humanity ever learn
From their mistakes?
We must ask ourselves…
Must millions die
Before one will take a stand?
Emily Haslam is a grade 12 student at Holy Cross Secondary School.