A truck engine screamed and stopped in front of the main yard. Everyone would be waiting, everyone hoping that they see their mother or father or brother or sister. Men began to step down and I saw among them Immaculee. She was all bones, although she did not look nearly as bad as some of them. It was clear that she had not had enough to eat. Many kids rushed to welcome the fathers, mothers and brothers to assist them to walk. I hugged her and put my arm around her neck and guided her into my sleeping tent. She had become a disabled invalid because of the cruel treatment. Some of them were sent to the clinic.

In the night she told me how our mother was killed.

“The soldiers didn’t question us as they said they would, mom was killed with a phenol injection to the heart,” she said with a tear falling down her face.

“She died in the evening, I heard her groaning all night until she finally gave up her life,” I just sat there, hugging my knees and crying.

Immaculee had troubles breathing this time because of her asthma. Although a surgery was needed to be done, there were no surgeons to carry out the surgery. Immaculee suffered all day. Things got worse; the authorities did nothing to provide her with appropriate medical care. I looked at my only family member and I had no words. We fell into each other’s arms in a long hug all evening and I was smiling to relieve my pain.

When I went to visit her the following morning, she was dead. I was unable to move and I sat on a stone close by as my whole body heaved with sobs. On the burial hour I followed the coffin to a grave outside the camp. Others watched me sob, as the clods fell on her coffin. The people were saying, “Oh dear God, you are too young to be going through this,” one of them took me to her tent to spend the night.

I’m quiet. A tall boy demanded to know why I put small soup in their tray. Then he punched me real hard. I heard tap inside my head. They thought I was a child so they could do whatever they want to me. I couldn’t take it anymore so I insulted him.
“God will punish you!”

The blows came from all sides like stones. They punched and kicked me until I curled up into a ball on the ground. I wept and told them,

“Beat me, beat me, I want to die. Kill me, I have no mother, no father, no sister, no brother, kill me, kill me!”

People heard the screams and came to my aid. If they had not pulled me away, I might have been killed.

It was midday. The sun was blazing. They are said the RPF has won the fight in Rwanda. That was why they were talking about sending us back to Rwanda. They assured us that the RPF are not like the government soldiers we had known before coming here.

Today was the greatest day of my life. I was leaving for a rich family in Paris at last and it was time to say goodbye. Everything was set for my departure but it was a mixture of relief and grief. The Red Cross had arranged for a van to pick me to the airport. We arrived at Kilimanjaro Airport. My luggage was too heavy to carry so the driver got a luggage trolley which was free to use. He asked somebody to direct us to the baggage and x-ray area corresponding to my airline.

Tell us: Is Benjamin awaited by a better life in Paris? Why or why not?