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We were walking eastwards along the Lake Muhazi. I had done this walk once before, precisely two years earlier when my family had wanted to hike around the lake as a fun family experience. Back then, it had been a beautiful stretch of lush green grass mixed with welcoming rural villages and its warm and friendly people. I remember my papa telling me that the hiking track used to be even better before the civil war started, however, when I did the walk the first time it was still enjoyable.
My walk along the lake in April 1994 was anything but enjoyable. I was spending many days walking in the extreme heat with the curt and temperamental Phillippe, whose real motivation for bringing me along I hadn’t figured out yet. Phillippe still wore the uniform of Théoneste Bagosora’s Interahamwe Hutu militia that had pledged to exterminate my people. Yet his desire to murder people of the Tutsi tribe seemed to have subsided and had been replaced by the desire to take me to an undisclosed location.
The last day we walked along the lake before turning southeast, I had an episode of sickness that I will never forget. I was severely dehydrated as we hadn’t been able to find a water source that wasn’t contaminated with blood and human remains. I collapsed, and I yearned to drink from the pool of water that was only a few meters away from me. Yet the thought of drinking water contaminated with human remains sickened me even further, and I vomited violently.
“What’s wrong, little girl?” Phillippe taunted.
“I need water. I am so weak.” I replied meekly.
Phillippe gave me a sour look, threw his empty canteen bottle at me, and shouted, “I don’t even have water for myself. We got to keep moving. There is an untainted water source a few hours walk away.”
“How do you know?” I asked softly.
“I was with Interahamwe. I know where I can get water. Do you think we are stupid enough to contaminate our water source? Do you think we are stupid monkeys?” Phillippe taunted.
“I didn’t. I am just thirsty.” I mumbled.
“You’ve implied it, you rotten Tutsi cockroach. Apologize now!” Phillippe demanded.
“I am sorry, Phillippe.” I sobbed.
“Get up. We need to move.” Phillippe ordered.
I tried to get up on my feet, but my legs would not carry me, and I collapsed to the ground like an abandoned sack of corns. Phillippe swore and started kicking violently towards a tree, presumably instead of kicking me. Eventually, he made a fire, filled a cooking pot with unclean water, and started boiling it.
“The contaminated water won’t kill you if you boil it first,” Phillippe explained coldly.
“Thank you, Phillippe,” I whispered weakly.
As Phillippe was boiling the water, two militiamen approached us. The taller of them spoke: “Hey soldier, why are you here, and why are you boiling this filthy water? There is freshwater an hour away.”
“The girl. She is weak and refuses to get up unless I give her water.” Phillippe replied.
“Bullshit. Why are you going alone with a girl in the forest anyway?” The militiaman asked.
“I am taking her to a buyer in Nyakasanza for Colonel Patrick Bagosora,” Phillippe replied.
“Bullshit. The Colonel and his troops are leading a group of captured women to Kigali, to entertain our president. Why would he send you alone with this girl to Nyakasanza?” The shorter man disputed. “I don’t know, dog. Why don’t you ask him?” Phillippe mocked.
The taller man walked up to me, lifted me to a standing position, and inspected me. As he stared into my eyes with his black evil eyes, I knew that he was going to rape me. He pushed me to the ground and spoke. “I like this girl. If you let me take a ride on her, I will give you fresh water from our spring. How about that?”
“No. I won’t let you damage the merchandise. The girl is worthless to me if you spoil her.” Phillippe exclaimed.
The man showed Phillippe an evil grin and replied. “So, you haven’t raped this girl yet? Even better, I’d love to be the first.”
“No, I won’t let you,” Phillippe exclaimed and chested up against the taller man.
“Try to stop me,” The man said and punched Phillippe, who fell backwards and hit his head.
The two Interahamwe men kneeled next to me and laughed. The taller man said: “Don’t be afraid, little girl. You’re about to become a mature woman, and that’s a good thing. It would be a shame for a pretty thing like you to die a virgin.”
After saying this, the man started pulling my clothes and undressing me. I felt very frightened but I was cold and frail, so I was powerless to resist. I punched the man a few times, but my arms lacked strength and the man didn’t flinch. Quite the opposite, the more I resisted, the more excited he became, and I knew that he would soon enter me as they had done to my poor mother. Time slowed down, and I prayed to Jesus that I would die a quick and painless death. I had seen how my mother suffered after Patrick Bagosora raped her, and I didn’t want that to happen to me. The man pulled off my panties, and my body stiffened from the dreadful sensation of the man forcing his manhood upon my frail and skinny body.
The rape was never completed. Instead, blood splashed all over my body as a terrifying scream of shock filled the forest. I looked up, and I saw Phillippe decapitate my rapist’s head, then chopping the other man to pieces with his machete. I closed my eyes in horror of the image that I just saw, but felt relieved that the rape ordeal has ended, pushed the dead man away and passed out instantly.
***
“DID HE MANAGE TO BREAK your virginity?” Phillippe asked with a cold and distant voice.
I shook my head. Phillippe smiled and replied: “Good, so you are still pure.”
I took a deep breath. The thirst that had seared my throat before was now becoming more tolerable, and I felt that my collapse and unconsciousness had somehow replenished my energy.
Phillippe spoke, “You should drink and eat. I gave you some water while you were delirious, but we waste less water if you drink while conscious.”
“So, do we have food and water now?” I asked softly.
“Yes. Those men that I killed had brought some supplies. We have enough food, water, and money for our trip to Tanzania now.” Phillippe replied.
“So, why did you kill those men?” I asked.
“It was not me that killed them, it was God that killed those men. Why else would he had put them on our path?” Phillippe replied.
I didn’t reply to Phillippe’s statement. If there was a God, why had he allowed this terrible plight to happen on my people in the first place? We had walked past several Tutsi villages in the last week. They were all destroyed, with their inhabitants slaughtered and left to rot in the sun. Why would God allow such reckless hate to take place in this kind and loving world?
“We need to get moving. It’s still many days walk to Nyakasanza in Tanzania.” Phillippe stated.
“What’s awaiting us in Tanzania?” I asked.
“For you, a clean and warm place in United Nations refugee camp. For me, a reward for bringing you there.” Phillippe replied.
“Thank you for looking after me,” I said and sought eye contact with the lone militiaman, who risked his life to keep me safe.
Phillippe didn’t reply. Instead, he looked away and started walking on the path that took us to the southeast, in the direction of the Tanzania border. In retrospect, I have understood that Phillippe felt ashamed about his real intentions towards me. While I could hate him as much as I hate Patrick Bagosora, I never have. Because although Phillippe’s intentions towards me were to trade me for money, they ended up being what brought me out of Rwanda alive.