"Hotel Rwanda"

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
"The air is dust covered, fogged up by panic. Every step taken is simply another warning not to divulge our beliefs."

~I wrote this for a class assignment we had to do after watching "Hotel Rwanda." I have decided to post it on here, enjoy.

Submitted: April 24, 2007

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Submitted: April 24, 2007

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The air is dust covered, fogged up by panic. Every step taken is simply another warning not to divulge our beliefs. We are safer from those who use hate as a weapon. They have built strength from this machinery, causing harm with larger creations of grotesque passions. Their aim contributes a stench, leaving our atmosphere reeking of bound bodies. Each limb lies there, motionless and tattered. It is as if they are writhing for help, but have nothing to reach with. My fear stabs me in the gut as I turn to inhale all of the fresh mixing in with the stale. Glancing up only leads to acknowledgement of the blood being splattered across the grounds. Stunned, I have become mesmerized with disbelief. I form a frame around images of other human beings having their flesh gorged away without a second notion. This is what out civilization turns to, murder and chaos? Our own nation, ripping apart races.

When the first shots were fired my mind went utterly clueless, clouded with an infatuation of killing. A yearning to reach out and alter the madness that consumed this new age devours my mind. Confusion swept me clean like a broom to a spider’s web. That is where they struck me first, at my loss of understanding. Assumptions should only go far, but without a standard everything was clearer than a brightly raised sky. Hatred was shielded by a title that reinforced fear; a tribe that hit far more than once. A pledged rivalry within each tribe struck tragedy as the Hutoos took first aim.

In response to actions, another segment of civilization heeded a response with retaliation. Captured and catching, the Tutsees fought a war of difference. Shared land gave attempts for destruction. Ownership would not be won. I serve as an independent as sites were being demolished. Why give way to a massacre lead by ignorance? I fondled amongst the troops with greed and service. These people were not my friends, nor had I expected such. They used what they could receive. I fed each warrior a rumor of distraction, leading each with false indications of the truth. My words for other lives, a fair trade I would say.

Rwanda, a country that as been long past looked over, has been settled with a poor economic system. Trade was a given passage for those who needed. Many held without homes, leaving behind orphans with no shelter or money. Unfair payments were checks for living, setting up a long waver for today’s times. Passageways were built with dirt, rough and winding. Most buildings did not even contain roadways, but open grasslands filled with disease and wild animals. Very few houses lined the roads, but those who did were mainly livestock hidden in one hotel. The hotel I managed.

The wounded needed a place; safety from the harm that was left unnoticed. Fright dripped anxiously like sweat from my pores, enveloping each moment. The hotel I managed had been a sanctuary for lives threatened by the war. Rooms were being filled with tears and whirlwinds of stench. Each glance around the door, more refugees surrendered from the land and ended up on the doorsteps. They begged and bargained. I stayed here for my people and I will not leave them unarmed. I could not let them or my family die, so, which would come first, my life or these people? I choose a voyage through terror than to live a life of shame. My family would go first to safety, which was for certain. But I could not venture away without stopping these crimes. My people trusted me, knew me, and believed me. I would not betray loyalty.

First there was one village, and then came along the crimson soil printed with chunks of skin. The layers of people were flaked off like a scab from a bored child. They meant nothing to savage people. Calls of terror rang through the earth, drifting death and remorse. Soon twenty become a thousand. The torture was not yet done, as even the hotel was ransacked and lacerated from its hinges. The blood-covered nation was soon a gravesite for one million people. There will never be anything civil about a war.


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