Mushi’s Eleventh Hour

Mushi’s Mysterious Death

During the first days in the torture chamber, we were so crowded and the first space that one occupied when we were herded into this torture chamber was going to be your space until the day you died. Mushi was lucky to occupy the corner of the torture chamber. This space was important because of two things: 1) when you were standing in the corner other people couldn’t suffocate you because you always had this extra space between the walls; 2) Mushi’s space also had a single light that came from the torn corrugated roof. This single light was the only watch that told us what was the time of the day but also it was the single source of light inside the torture chamber. When it was raining this was the only place that provided us with water from the roof. Therefore this space was a treasure not only for Mushi but also for all of us inside this torture chamber.

Mushi knew how to use this space for his own survival. Everyone wanted to stand in that space. In order to be allowed one was supposed to pay Mushi some ten boiled grains. This might sound strange but Tutsis subjected us to the starvation torture by giving us measured boiled maize that was not to help us live but sustain us so that we could eventually all die slowly. Therefore, all the boiled maize they gave us was not more than 137 grains. We counted them daily and the number of grains they provided us were between 125 and 137. When you were given more than 130 boiled grains you praised God for being so generous to you that day. When we were given less than 125 boiled maize grains we cried because it was like losing anything you ever owned. One extra grain meant more days to live.

This map depicts Rwanda, specifically highlighting the former Cyangugu region. From this area hailed Nsabimana, fondly known as “Mushi,” a colleague with whom I shared the harrowing experience in the torture chamber. Sadly, Mushi was one of the many Rwandan Hutu refugees tragically taken by the Tutsi soldiers. Yet, in his final moments, he found solace and redemption by embracing faith and accepting Jesus.

Atop a hill on this island, Nsabimana, affectionately known as “Mushi,” took his first breaths and spent his formative years. The nearby Lake Kivu, essentially in the backyard of his childhood home, was where Mushi learned to swim and where, as a young boy, he would fetch water. He harbored dreams of surviving the RPF turmoil, returning to this very hill to find love, establish a home, raise a family, and gift his mother with the joy of grandchildren. Sadly, in 1997 in Congo, Tutsi soldiers tragically took the lives of three of Mushi’s siblings.

Mushi understood this equation very well that if one manages to get an extra boiled maize grain increases his chances of survival. That was why he decided to commercialize his space inside this torture chamber. If a person wanted to space sometime under the light which used to come through the hole in the roof s/he was supposed to pay Mushi 10 boiled maize grains for ten minutes. Since it was everyone’s need to feel the sun we had no choice but to pay Mushi. He was the one who always had extra boiled maize when most of the victims were starving.

For us who organized felloship inside the torture chamber we needed to find a space where there is more light so that we could see properly as we read the Bible. By October, 1998, those who were still alive were not only looking like living skeletons because of beatings and starvation but also majority of us had become blind due to lack of Vitamins A and D. Once a victim suffers vitamin A and D deficiency has been associated with macular degeneration, dry eye syndrome and contributes to blindness because they make the cornea very dry, which damages the retina and cornea (Fuller, 1992; Preedy, 2014; Thirunavukarasu, Ross & Gilbert, 2022). The only way we could read the Bible during our fellowship was to request Mushi to allow us to use his space so that I would be able to prepare and read the scriptures. To be allowed to access Mushi’s space we were supposed to put together 150 boiled maize grains for Mushi. It was too expensive for us but because we needed fellowship, we always contributed to them, each one of us donating between 5 and 10 boiled maize grains.

Mushi’s Hatred for the Bible

Mushi hated anything to do with the Bible. He never believed that a kind and almighty God would have allowed what happened in Rwanda, most importantly what was happening to us to happen. For any human who has a logical thinking, Mushi was right. He sometimes convinced us to question our beliefs. Whenever we worshiped inside the torture chamber Mushi said that we were disturbing his peace. He only accepted for us to use his space once we paid him for the space. He always questioned my beliefs. He wondered why a God that my mother had made a central part of our family’s life did not prevent the Tutsis from making our lives miserable and painful. “William, your mother prayers have not saved you from these murderers who are going to kill you inside here. No one will ever know how you died and who killed you. Everything is going to end here and yet you claim that God is all powerful,” Mushi used to always remind me of that.

On some occasions he made sense to me. My mind would sometimes question what I believed in, especially when I looked at our situation and the way we were being killed like flies with impunity. However, I could still hear this voice that kept me clinging on God regardless of the outcome of my life inside the torture chamber.

One day, it was Mushi’s D-Day. As we were all expected to die inside the torture chamber, the death came knocking at Mushi’s door. From around 10 pm Mushi had been fighting his last life. Most of us died because our hearts couldnt find enough blood to pump out. It was painful because it could take hours of someone fighting with his heart as his body tried to remain alive. This was what was happening to Mushi from 10pm and throughout the night. You could hear him fighting to live but the pain was very excruciating. He spent the entire night agonizing. He couldn’t die or live; it was a continuous painful experience throughout.

The next day at around 10am. It had been around 12 hours of pain and suffering in the last life of Mushi. I was sitting in the corner also fighting for my life. I knew that my time was also up. It was just a matter of time before my demise was collected and taken to the mass graves as the Tutsis had been doing to all their victims ever since they ascended to power. Wherever I was inside hte torture chamber I just read the Bible because it was the only thing I had. I was leaning against the wall in order to find support because my back couldn’t support me enough to sit upright. We were no longer able to walk or kneel the only way we moved from one place to another inside the torture chamber was to crawl like babies using our forearms. Our bodies’ fluids had dried up.

I later saw Jonas crawling toward where I was seated and he told me that Mushi is dying and he had told him to go and look for William and tell him this, “Mushi had been fighting for hours since yesterday. He waited for life or death and none of them has come so far but pain. Tell William to bring that ‘book’ I hated so much so that he could read me one verse from it then it would be enough,” Jonas told me. After hearing that I took the Bible and crawled back with Jonas toward Mushi. Although it was in the same room, it used to take us around five minutes to move from one corner of a room which was only 3 meters square.

When we arrived at where Mushi was laying on the floor in severe pain I asked him what he wanted. Our voices had disappeared because of starvation and dehydration. We only whispered. I approached him to hear what he was saying and said this to me, “William I have fought your fellowship right from the beginning. However, today I want you to read me something from that Book so that I can go.” After hearing that I opened the Bible and surprisingly I opened Matthew 10:28, which says that, “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” (Matthew 10:28 ESV). After reading the verse Mushi said, “Amen” and that was his last word and he died.

Such an incident shocked all of us who were there. We couldn’t cry or talk but you could see the emotions on our wrinkled faces. Like all of those who had been killed inside the torture chamber before him, Mushi’s body remained with us for three days then the Tutsi came to collect the body and put it in a black body bag and took him to mass grave like most Hutus killed by the RPF in different torture chambers. Usually, when the Tutsis killed us, they used to collect the bodies and take them to their makeshift mortuary. However, Mushi’s body was left for days without collecting it. It also happened in the past where they left 8 bodies with us until they started rotting and decomposing in our presence.

After Mushi’s demise, we remained behind waiting for our day to come and talking about Mushi’s death comparing it with that story of the thief on the cross which is found in the books of Matthew 27:38, Luke 23:32-43 and Mark 15:27 where a dying penitent thief accepted Christ as Lord and Master and is assured by Jesus of a place in paradise (Contemporary English Version Bible, 2001, Matthew 10:27-29). Of course, Mushi talked about his mother, his sisters, and his high school sweetheart from Karengera. He hoped to see his family again and hug his mum, narrate to her the ordeal he went through at the hands of the RPF Tutsis but they never gave him that chance. Mushi died inside the torture chamber with a long list of unfullfilled plans. He hoped that one day he would be free, go back to Cyangugu, fall in love, marry and have his own children to carry the name of his siblings slaughtered by Tutsi soldiers at Lubutu Bridge in DRC/Zaire but it never came to pass. However, Mushi died a strong believer.

Dr. William A. Twayigize

DR. WILLIAM