The Rain in April

The road to death

Chapter 4

“What is happening?” Father Donald asked, still trying to understand what was going on. There were murmurings which made matters worse for Father Donald. He saw Sentwali talking with one of the men and was sure he was making inquiries.

“What is happening? Why are they crowded inside the church?” He asked as Sentwali drew near to him.

“It’s the riot I told you about. Sir, it started in the main streets and no one knows the perpetuators but they think the Hutus are the ones behind it,” Sentwali answered.

Father Donald stood there looking at the tall and dark priest in front of him; a riot had started and the Tutsis were the target.

“So all these people are Tutsis?” he asked, looking around the church. Men, women and children were all seated on the pews.

“The rioters would soon suspect the church; they would have seen people run into the church.” Sentwali expressed his fears.

“What do we do?” Father Donald asked, lowering his voice.

“I do not know Father.”

Father Donald walked towards the glass window of the church.

“Oh my God!” He exclaimed after taking a look at the outside.

“What is wrong Father?” Sentwali asked, looking out through the window.

“They are here.” Father Donald said turning to give Sentwali a puzzled look.

Trying to fight his fear, Father Donald walked back to the front of the pews.

“They can’t break into the church.”

“You think so?” the young priest asked looking worried.

“I have an idea that can save everyone.” Father Donald knew that the only way to protect these people was to lead them out of the church.

“You think your idea will work?” Sentwali asked.

“There is no other way, you will lead them from the back door into the church bus and drive through the western gate towards our Cathedral in Butare, and I will speak to the rioters.”

The noise grew louder outside the church; Father Donald immediately sensed that the rioters were outside the church, they didn’t knock or break down the church; they were just dancing around the premises. The people taking refuge inside the church all stood up and clustered to a corner inside the church.

“Why don’t I speak to the rioters, I am a Hutu and they might listen to me,” Sentwali suggested.

Father Donald thought about it for a while before agreeing with the young priest.

“I will join you in Butare,” Sentwali smiled. He held unto the crucifix on the black rosary he wore around his neck and said a brief prayer. He then turned and started walking towards the door, his body dancing in rhyme with his walking step under the black cassock he was wearing.

Father Donald turned towards the people inside the church and told them to follow him quietly outside the church through the back door; they walked quietly till they got to where the church bus was packed. Father Donald opened the door to the church bus quietly, it was a yellow forty-two seated bus, written boldly on its yellow body was the church's name.

“Everybody lie low,” he said, turning the ignition key on and slowly accelerating the bus out of the church premises through the western gate. As he drove out of the gate, he looked at the church through the side mirror; the rioters were already entering the church. He thought of Sentwali, he was sure they wouldn’t harm him based on the fact that he was a Hutu and was well known in the city. He was going to be back, he just had to get these people to Butare and return to Nyanza. He drove the bus towards the main road where some people stood watching a group of young boys armed with machetes and clubs dance round a circle. Father Donald drove past them, something bigger than the riot was going to happen, he could feel it, the excitement on the faces of the people along the roadside as they watched the boys dancing said it all. He shook his head and muttered and cursed under his breath before turning towards another main road. A group of boys were already setting up barricades. He drove on afraid that he would be discovered; a boy made to flag him down but quickly waved on to him to continue moving. They cleared the barricade while he drove on. He looked at the boys through the side mirror, they were waving at him excitedly and he faked a smile thus waving back at them. He began to wonder the kind of hatred that existed between both tribes, the Hutus and the Tutsis. Little children who were not born during the time of the war between both tribes were ready to take up arms just to eliminate their Tutsi neighbors.

“You can sit up now; we are already on our way to Butare,” he announced. He could hear murmurs as the people rose to their seats. Father Donald looked out through the endless lines of trees and bushes that surrounded the road at all sides. He had a lot to think about, he was going to drive them into a cathedral in Butare and Father Wilson who was the Chaplain would take them in, at least, till the crisis in Nyanza was over. Then, he had to think of a way to return to Nyanza immediately so as to ensure he was available for mass on Sunday.

He had not driven for long when he saw a road block afar off, some men were standing there. He turned and gestured to the people in the bus to hide under their seats. The men were carrying weapons and looked nothing like the boys he saw earlier. They all tied red scarves on their heads or around their necks. There were parked cars beside the road blocks, all of which were empty. Father Donald slowed down wanting to turn back. There was something strange about the way they were dressed and he didn’t know them but it was too late, one of the men had already seen him and was already signaling to him to drive over to where he was standing. Father Donald shook violently as he drove towards the man. His heart beat faster as he could feel his pause against the steering and tiny sweats gathered around his forehead. Slowly, he parked the bus by the side of the road and raised his glance at the dark plumb man who approached him.

“Get down! We need to search the bus!”

“There is nothing here, I am just traveling to the next city for a program,” Father Donald answered with a smile.

“Well, get the hell down father, or I would be forced to make you comply,” the dark plumb man pointed his gun at Father Donald.

“I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bonded to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.”

MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.