IN 1988, WHEN I FIRST SAW CIVIL WAR in my country of origin, Burundi, it was very horrible. I saw so many shameful and painful deaths. One night my parents were forced to flee, and I found myself alone. It was very threatening, because I did not know the men I saw in our village.
After one month alone, I decided one night to follow other people fleeing to Rwanda. Following that night of struggling through the forest, we reached the Burundi-Rwanda border. During the journey we encountered so many problems, including stepping on the bodies of those who had been killed. When I reached the border, I saw someone who told me he knew where my parents were, and he directed me there. I found them safe in a Rwandan refugee camp.
In 1990, after the war ended, I heard that all those killing machines [military vehicles and weapons] were made by white men. From then on my hatred toward white people grew worse and worse. I could not even talk to them or have my picture taken with them. I thought they were all very dangerous.
