Without a moment to waste, we swiftly formed a four-member Bible study group comprising Shadrack, Gilbert, Jonas, and myself. Our shared hope was that through this endeavor, we could reach out to others and lead them to Christ, even amidst the looming threat of death at the hands of the relentless Tutsis. The days dragged on, each marked by unending killings and the unimaginable torment of standing in brackish water, which relentlessly weakened our bodies. Under the merciless directives of General Karake Karenzi, we witnessed the daily demise of numerous colleagues, leaving us gripped by a haunting sense of dread as our ranks dwindled. As the RPF’s sinister intentions to annihilate us grew ever more apparent, my refuge lay in prayer, seeking spiritual fortitude in the face of an inevitable end.

As we continued to be slaughtered like sheep and mounting casualties at the hands of the Tutsis, a harrowing realization settled in – trapped in the torture chamber, our lives were destined to perish without a trace, leaving our families bereft of closure. As death loomed over us, our only solace lay in seeking spiritual sanctity, hoping that our souls would find peace with their Creator upon our demise, as it is written in Ecclesiastes 12:7; “Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.” The horror deepened when we endured eight agonizing days amidst the decaying bodies of our colleagues, a cruel psychological tactic employed by Tutsi soldiers to break our spirits. Each day, I found myself contemplating the fate that awaited me – a body left to rot in despair. When we pleaded with the Tutsis to acknowledge the deaths of our comrades, their laughter echoed in our ears, leaving us utterly powerless and desolate.