Newest rewrite (previous version available here):
That Spring in 1994: What I Remember—Recollections
of the Rwandan Genocide
That spring in 1994, I was
15 years old and a freshman at Bedford High School in Massachusetts. Searching my memory of that
period, I can't uncover even a faded polaroid recollection to give witness to
the murder of almost a million men, women, boys, girls and babies.
That spring
I remember working as a
bagger at the grocery store on Hanscomb Air Force Base.
I remember fleeing the base
theatre with my friend CJ after we lit up cigars during a movie.
I remember the field where I
would play soccer by my school.
What I can recall
I close my eyes and I can
smell the dusty paper of the grocery bags.
I close my eyes and I can
feel my heart racing as we were chased out of the theatre.
I close my eyes and I can
see the long and overgrown green grass of the soccer field.
That same spring
Nearly a million people's
last breath and smell was rotten and rife with
sweat, urine, and blood.
Murderers crushed and ripped
apart nearly a million hearts.
Murderers smashed shut
nearly a million sets of eyes.
That same spring
Millions of people
knew.
And millions of people did
nothing.
Today
Today
Today
Today
and
everyday
I trudge with the grief of my own ignorance
like an iron yoke
on the shoulders
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