LETTERS OF DEATH

BIRTHDAY IN PRISON

BIRTHDAY IN PRISON

“My Star Nyenyeri,” it feels so good to hear you call me that, even though it was only on paper — but it made me remember the sound of your voice, and I began to feel as if you were calling me from within these walls. What would I have been doing if I didn’t answer you? I might have cried, as the Burundians say, “tears break through.” But thank you for reminding me of how you used to call me. You made me laugh too — I thought Ruzirampuhwe only gave me thirty minutes, but now I see it’s the same for you. Well, just let him be; the most important thing is that he always manages to deliver our messages. Let’s pray together for blessings upon him, because I can’t think of any other reward to give him. But when we’re out of prison, we’ll give him a gift that will make him happy.

Forgive me if I hurt you — I know I can’t be a coward when I have you. You are my strength, the staff I lean on when I reach steep places I can’t cross on my own. Thank you for calming my worries, because I was feeling anxious, thinking that maybe your life wasn’t going well. You know I can’t be at peace if you’re in pain. Remember, you are a part of me — whether you’re here or not — so take care of yourself, because when you’re not well, I’m wounded too.

You startled me a bit when you said my letters make you cry. My heart almost told me to stop writing, but my hands wouldn’t allow it. My heart itself can’t survive without hearing from you. Don’t be surprised — it’s true that for those who take time to reflect, this place becomes a school. There are so many lessons here, but the greatest one I’ve learned is to value the people we have and the time they give us. Whoever can should live in such a way that they leave behind a good memory, so that those who remain will call them a hero without hypocrisy.

Don’t worry yourself, because when we’re free from these walls, I will never let you be lonely again. I’ll always be with you, talking with you without getting tired. No matter what happens, nothing will take me away from you — that’s the vow I made the first day I entered this prison.

My love, I have news for you — I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. Here in prison, I had made a friend, the one who was teaching me how to play guitar. But now they’ve released him — he’s completed the sentence he was serving. He told me he would leave me his guitar so I could keep playing, since I had learned enough from him already. They say men’s tears flow inside, but that’s a lie — my friend’s tears streamed down his cheeks. Yet he was happy; the only words he could say were his wife’s name. He missed her terribly.

I feel like half my heart is happy, the other half is sad. But no matter what, I wouldn’t wish this place on him. Let him go home, even though loneliness will eat at me. He already knew my story, and he told me that when I write you again, I should tell you that he has gone home and that we too will go home. He said he will be there to welcome us. I sent greetings for him to give to his family — his wife and two children. Seeing him go home has given me even more hope that we too will leave, especially since we are innocent.

You mentioned your birthday — I remember it. You might not know, but your birthday will be two days before we’re taken to court. I begged Ruzirampuhwe to make sure this letter reaches you early, and he agreed. I wanted to give you a gift, but I couldn’t find one. And even if I found it, how would I get it to you, my queen? Please forgive me. I know for many years, we always celebrated your birthday together. I remembered that this was the first birthday you were going to celebrate since we became husband and wife. I had planned it so well… but here we are. Truly, the road never tells the traveler where it will end.

Still, I want you to be comforted — in that darkness, you will be in my eyes. Don’t be frightened. Instead, look to the sky and watch the stars bringing you the light of the candles I would have lit, shaped into a heart as a sign that I have given you mine. I don’t know where you will be, but when night comes, the birds will begin to sing to you, carrying our love in their voices. They will sing loudly: “Happy birthday, my beloved Star, happy birthday Melanie.”

Promise me that you will stretch out your arms, because I too will be here with my arms open, singing from my heart to you. Don’t fear the cold — I’ll send you love to wrap you in warmth.

Now Ruzirampuhwe’s minutes are burning like dry leaves in a fire, so I must end here. Write me back quickly, because he promised to bring me an envelope with your reply right away. I’m sorry, my craftsmanship failed me this time — I couldn’t make you a gift. But I’ll make it up to you when we’re free, and I know you’ll love it, you, my joy. Let’s keep trusting the signs our lawyers have. I can already count the days on my fingers until I see you again. I feel like I’ll be wearing the finest clothes — finer even than my wedding day outfit. But like you, pink is the color that suits me best. May the God of Rwanda be with you. Farewell.

It was from the one who loves you endlessly,

Irasubiza Chance