I press the photograph against my chest, holding it with both hands. I slump on the bed, legs dangling. Memories of my homeland continue to flow like water from an open tap.

In 1994, four years after that radio broadcast about the war in the north, the war had not spread from the north. Our family life went on as normal. Louis and I played together after school, whenever we could.

“Do you think there will ever be peace again in our country?” Louis asked me as we splashed each other with water at the river.

“Don’t worry. Soon peace will flow like this river,” I told him.

But it was not to be. Something unspeakable was about to happen to all of us.

One morning in April, I was busy sweeping in our lounge. The broom dropped out of my hands and my blood ran cold as I heard the radio news.

“The Rwandan President’s plane carrying him and the President of Burundi, has been shot down…” The broadcaster said: “Please stay indoors and remain calm.”

“Ibyacu birarangiye!” (This is our end!) my mom exclaimed, breathing deeply, pressing her right hand on her chest, as I brought the news to her.

That night, as I lay in my bed listening to the sound of gunfire and rockets above Kigali, I remembered the words I said to Louis by the river: “Soon peace will flow like this river.” I felt my heart being torn apart. I knew that things would only get worse now. The war in the north was like flames. When the president’s plane was shot down fire started to rage across the whole country.

I had grown up seeing Tutsis and Hutus living together. My uncle’s wife had always been very kind to me when we visited them. Where was all this madness coming from now?

True madness.The city drowned beneath sounds of grenades and gunshots, like heavy raindrops on tinned roofs. Our sky turned red as homes burned. We started fearing for our lives.

“Where are all the snakes? We will hunt them down in their holes, wherever they are hiding!” I heard a voice shouting outside. My blood ran cold. What would happen to my aunt? She was my father’s, brother’s wife. They only lived a few blocks away and she was a Tutsi. Would she be driven from her house and killed?

I heard that my mother’s friend next door, who was Tutsi, was killed by her neighbour. We often played with her children in the street.

“It’s time to save our families. It’s no longer safe here,” Dad told my uncle Jacques.

“But where can we go? Where can we send the family?”

The next morning our housekeeper, Claver, and my dad helped us fasten some mattresses on the roof of Jacques’ minibus. Then my dad hugged us all before we left. My mom was not ready to let go of my dad. She tried to touch his hand through the window of the minibus as it pulled away, but she could not reach him. She just waved frantically, lost in frightened thoughts.

It was so painful to leave dad and Claver behind when they could be killed, because they did not believe in what was happening, and refused to be part of the killing. They were seen as traitors.

As we drove away Dad’s favourite words echoed in my mind: “Family always sticks together, no matter what.” And there we were, torn apart!

Moments later, I was paralysed by fear as I heard gunshots right behind us.

“Stop!” cried Mom. “Let’s go bring Xavier. Else, I might not see him again!”

“He wanted us to leave…” said my uncle. “We can come back for him later.” But my mother looked like she wanted to leap from the minibus and run back to our house and save my dad.

As we drove I thought of Louis. I wondered what was happening to his family. Had they escaped? Were they squashed into a car driving away from their home, like we were?

We did not have cellphones then. There was no way I could call him or send him a text message.

My uncle battled to drive us out of Kigali. There were roadblocks everywhere. “Why are you leaving? Why are you leaving us alone on the battlefield?” the army men at the roadblocks always asked. Many times, my uncle had to pay those people so that they would let us go.

At one roadblock, we saw three men dragging a woman and her baby to the side of the road. “Rwose mwambabariye we!” (Please have mercy on me!) she was shouting, and kicking and rolling her eyes in fear but they didn’t heed any of this. The last thing I saw as we drove past was her being beaten to the ground.

My uncle drove as fast as he could from Kigali to Gisenyi, a town on the western edge of Rwanda, near the border with the Democratic Republic of the Congo. My mom was silent, lost in fear the whole way. Even the eucalyptus trees we passed by along the road were clad in gloom. I could feel mom’s pain as she realised she was powerless to help my dad. After we arrived, my mom tried to phone dad. There was no answer.

In Gisenyi, we rented a room and waited for news from my dad. At night I would go to be bed thinking about my home in Kigali, about my dad, about my friend Louis. My mind was like a beehive and I couldn’t sleep.

One morning I was walking in the market place in Gisenyi with my mom when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around – to see Louis! He was with two older boys. We hugged and I laughed. I was so happy to see him alive.

“Do you know each other?” my mom asked.

“Yes. His name is Louis. We were in the same class.” I was too embarrassed to say how close a friend he was. He was a boy and I was a girl.

“And are you all safe?” my mom asked Louis.

“Yego. Imana ishimwe. (Yes, thank God). We managed to escape. And you?” he asked, looking at me.

“We are not that lucky. We left my dad behind. We still don’t know if he is safe. The phone is not working.” These words nearly choked me as I said them.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he will join you soon.” What comforting words! How I wished they could be true.

Early the next morning we heard that it was no longer safe to stay in Gisenyi. The war in the north had spread across the whole country. Now the fighting was near Gisenyi, about to reach the town. There was no time to lose! We had to cross the border if we were to stay alive. I wanted to run and tell Louis the news, but I didn’t know where he was staying. I had not asked him when I had met him at the market place. But, we had to flee at once!

***

Tell us what you think: Will Odette meet Louis again? Did the family have any choice about leaving Rwanda?