 |  |
We were eating Boko Boko hares, which is a Burundian chicken stew, and watching the sunset over Lake Tanganyika when Amy spoke to me. “I have some good news and some bad news.”
I looked at her in anticipation. The last few weeks had been peaceful, and we had connected, although I hadn’t been able to enjoy the feeling of being free. Nightmares had tormented me, and I felt terrified every time I saw a police officer. To me, the men in uniform were all the same, and although the Burundi police force had left me alone this far, I feared that I would soon come across another Pesa or Phillippe that would torment and rape me.
Amy spoke again:
“The good news is that I have secured you a refugee visa to Australia. My cousin has a nice house in the countryside there. She can look after you, and give you a good upbringing.”
I reflected on Amy’s statement. I didn’t know much about Australia, except for it being a very faraway country, with mostly white people living in it.
“But I don’t want to go to Australia. I want things to go back to as they were.” I sobbed.
“I understand, but it is safer for you to live in Australia until Rwanda has healed as a country. Moving to Australia won’t take your heritage away from you.” Amy explained kindly.
“Okay. I guess you’re right. Thank you, Amy.” I replied after a while.
I hugged Amy as the sun set at the horizon of the lake. I forced a smile and spoke, “So, when are we going to Australia?”
“I have booked a flight for you on Wednesday. I need to return to Tanzania. I have filed a complaint against Pesa Nassoro to the central government of Tanzania in Dar-Es-Salaam. They are seeing me on Thursday.” Amy revealed.
“No, don’t go. It’s too dangerous. What if they arrest you?” I objected.
“They won’t, and besides, I need to stand up for the little people like yourself,” Amy replied.
I didn’t say anything. While I was upset that Amy would risk her life, I couldn’t argue against it. Her willingness to risk her well-being for others was the reason I was still alive. Yet, I felt very sad that our paths would diverge. Amy was a good person and the closest I had felt to love and connection since the horrible events that took everything away from me and scarred my body and mind.
“I will pray to Jesus to keep you safe,” I said and hugged Amy as the last rays of sunlight blessed us with its lifegiving energy.
***
I FELT A MIXTURE OF anticipation and melancholic excitement as the plane took off from Bujumbura Airport. I had never been on an aeroplane, and if someone had told me that I would be flying this year, I would have laughed at their silliness. Yet, there was nothing for me to laugh about now. As sad as I was to leave my country behind, there was nothing that bound me to Rwanda anymore. My family was dead, and as far as I knew, that applied to my other relatives as well.
I looked at the flight tickets that would take me to Australia. I would need to swap flights twice before I landed at Adelaide International Airport. I felt anxious at the task at hand. What if I lost my tickets along the way, or couldn’t navigate to the right airport terminal? Amy had told me that some airports were huge, like the size of a whole city, and it would be easy to get lost in such a foreign place.
I shook off my worries. I had survived the Rwandan genocide, Phillippe’s unpredictable temper swings, Mbwana Kapombe’s torture and humiliation, and Pesa Nassoro’s violent interrogation tactics. I would survive this trip to Australia, where my new life could begin.
Having calmed myself down, I started reading the books about Australia that Amy gave me. The rest of my life was ahead of me, and I wanted to start my new life running fresh.