A CITY ON THE LAKE
The Creation of Hutu and Tutsi
THE YOUNG MAN I HAD TAKEN from the house in Mahwa had survived. The Red Cross drove to the mission in Butwe and picked him up the day after being told that he might be in danger from the troops at Matana. They took him to the Prince Louis Rwagasore hospital in Bujumbura. The hospital is a long, two- and three-story building along a tree-lined avenue on the eastern side of the capital. The wards were dim and silent. I began to ask a doctor where I might find him and explained unclearly how he had been brought by the Red Cross from south of the city. The doctor had no idea what I was talking about, so I wandered through the wards hoping I might recognize him. At the end of a long room filled with beds surrounded by net curtains, a young man sat on the edge of a bed with a woman sitting beside him. They were both silent. He looked at me without any expression. I asked another doctor whether he was the one who had been brought from Butwe, and the doctor replied that he was. I stood for a minute, wondering what to say. He breathed, almost sighing, saying nothing.
"He hasn't said anything since he came here. This is his sister, who came here when the priest in Butwe said he had been brought to Bujumbura. He hasn't said anything at all." The doctor explained this with his arms crossed over his chest, staring down at the young man, who shifted his weight without changing his expression. The doctor explained to him and his sister who I was. The sister told him in Kirundi she knew who I was, that her brother was fine,