mornings are always the same in this home. the young boy wakes up. does his chores. then right after braiding his hair, tying it atop his head, and braiding his sister’s, their mother prepares lunch. four steaming roti’s with subzi and yogurt. She sits them on the verandah to eat while chiding him for yesterday's mischiefs and tomorrow's expected troubles.
A few weeks later, when news of the genocide arrives, her motherly instincts burst through her. Sensing the horror of the mob approaching before it actually does she runs frantically inside the house. Grabs a pair of scissors. Runs back to her children and begins snipping off their hair as fast as she can. Some of us might not understand the sadness encasing this moment but for her it is
A few weeks later, when news of the genocide arrives, her motherly instincts burst through her. Sensing the horror of the mob approaching before it actually does she runs frantically inside the house. Grabs a pair of scissors. Runs back to her children and begins snipping off their hair as fast as she can. Some of us might not understand the sadness encasing this moment but for her it is