A Seal Upon Your Heart (54 page)

“W…why did you spare my life?”

He turned back to her and this time his brow was creased. “Because….because of the look that you gave me; the one that is exactly like the look on your face right now.” He cleared his throat and swallowed. “When we were told what to do we did it. They said kill them all and I was convinced that it was them against us. I was told that it was okay to do it even though deep down I knew it was wrong.

“Yook wouldn’t participate. He said that he couldn’t. And then I told him that he was a girl but he didn’t care what I said. He went home. I got caught up in the horror of killing and being terrible. I kept doing it, trying to become lost in the action of it. And when the papers came through stating that your family was on the list we convinced ourselves that it was the reason your brother had turned his back on it; because he was a traitor.

“I wanted him to pay for being a traitor—somehow it was his fault that I had to kill people, as if he had done bad and I was here to rectify it, but if he had never done bad then I wouldn’t have to kill.

“I went there to make him pay and even though your mother had always been nice to me I ignored that, convinced that she was a part of the reason why I had to do this.

“When I saw Yook come into the house I went after him specifically. But then he picked you up and it seemed that you were the most important thing in the world in that moment. I thought, ‘ha’, he can’t out run me now. And then I raised that machete…I’d already raised it countless times but I raised it and as I brought it down I saw the look in your eyes. It was everything that made sense in that look; terror, questions, appeal…but no words, no cries, no screams. And then suddenly it was like…God was looking at me through those eyes.

“I could no longer convince myself that I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. In that moment I knew that I was damned.” He stared into the distance. “I didn’t pick up another weapon or kill another person. And then later, when I found out that they were going to return to the house to make sure the deed was done I returned first.”

Martier’s hand had been crossed in front of her lips. Her breath came back in a quick gust, she had been holding it until she was now nearly light headed. He’d come back?

“You were just sitting in…” He looked away. “You’d been sitting there for two days next to…” He wasn’t able speak those words—even though he was responsible for the deed and even after all of these years. “Even after everything you still looked at me with those eyes that cut through everything else. I gave you some water, which you accepted and then I led you into the closet. I said, ‘don’t talk.’”

Tears appeared in her eyes. He was the one that told her not to talk, and she didn’t for two years...

He wouldn’t look at the tears that appeared in her eyes and averted his eyes one last time. “The Red Cross found you the next day even though they wouldn’t start looking for bodies in Kigali for several more months later. That was the least that I could do. It’s not…it’s the only thing that a twelve year old boys knows to do to try to fix what he’d done wrong.” He cleared his throat. “No one knows about Chuma or what I did for you.”

Kokayi walked away and Martier finally bent, placing her hands on her knees and then she gave in to her tears.

~***~

Several hands stroked Martier’s hair and someone pressed a bottled drink into her hand and then helped her take a sip of the sweet fruit juice. Someone else helped her to find the right bus to return to the heart of the city and then she walked back to her apartment quietly contemplating all that she had learned. What did Kokayi mean with those last words?
No one knows about Chuma or what I did for you…

She found the number for the airport and arranged for a flight back to Cincinnati as soon as she stepped into her apartment. She now knew that there was no more closure than what had happened in the marketplace. It was finished.

It was late in the evening and both her body and mind were exhausted, but Martier was determined to stay up past three in morning so that she could call Tim by eight am. Kigali was seven hours behind in time and though she needed desperately to hear his voice, she wouldn’t wake him up.

While she waited she baked pies. It soon became therapeutic to roll out the crust and drop the various sugar coated fruit pieces into the dough lined pie pans. At three am she picked up the phone and then put it down three times wondering if Tim hated her, blamed her for turning away from him for her own selfish purposes. Regardless of everything that she needed to do in order to improve herself, the result is that she had hurt Tim by turning away from him.

She finally dialed the office number, happy to hear Linda answer the phone with the familiar; “Mr. Singleton’s office, may I help you?”

“Linda, this is Martier.”

The younger woman squealed. “Martier! I’m so happy to hear from you. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. How are you?”

“I’m great. Mr. Singleton is such a great boss! Thank you so much for asking him to let me fill in for you.”

“No, thank you for doing it. Is Tim around?”

“He stepped out but I don’t think he will be long. He didn’t take his briefcase or files.” They chatted for a few moments while Linda described what was going on around the office; mostly gossip and Martier realized just how far removed those things were from her now. She’d just spent weeks reviewing the files of people that survived heinous acts of torture and Linda was excited over which attorney was sleeping with which secretary.

“Wait a minute, Martier. He’s back.” She heard Linda cover the phone and speak and then Tim was suddenly there.

“Hello Martier?”

Her heart swelled in her chest. How could it be possible that just the sound of his voice made her feel safe?

“Tim, hi.”

“Hi,” came his soft response.

“Oh…you sound so wonderful,” and she meant it.

“You do too. How are you, honey, how is Rwanda?”

He called her honey and with that one word everything seemed okay. “I…I met the man that killed my brother.”

“Martier, I’m going to switch phones, can you hang on, baby? I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Yes.”

The phone went silent but only for less than five seconds. And then Tim was there again. “Martier, are you okay?”

“I think so…well, I don’t know. It’s just that everything feels so strange.”

“He didn’t threaten or hurt you did he?”

“No.” She quickly assured him. “He was very polite. He actually apologized.”

“Apologized? An apology for what he did to you and your family…wow. What fucking nerves.”

“I think I’m happy that he did. He explained why he spared my life. He explained that he called the Red Cross to get me, he came back to hide me from the Interahamwe. He’s the one who told me not to talk.”

Tim was quiet. “I’m sorry. He was a kid—a kid made to do horrible things. But then he did something very courageous. He helped you and it was like when your father helped the Tutsi’s. That boy could have been killed and he must have known that.”

Oh my God…Now she understood Kokayi’s last statement to her. No one knew that he had helped her. He surely would have been put to death and branded a traitor. But what about now, after so many years? Surely he could have used that bit of information to gain some compassion—but he didn’t. He just allowed people to think that he was nothing more than a butcher.

And what did he mean by speaking of the boy Chuma? Chuma had been her age and he had been with the boys that had come to her house that day. She remembered him trailing behind the others, no weapon but he was there.

But the reports never mentioned Chuma. Had Kokayi and the others protected him from the stigma of being called a murderer?

She rubbed her face tiredly. “I’m returning to the states.”

“Okay.” He said cautiously.

“I…I was wondering if I can come home to you?” She held her breath.

“Martier, I’ll be here for you. However you need me honey.”

“Okay.” She swallowed back the emotions that were swelling up inside of her and threatening to overtake her.

“When? I’ll be at the airport to get you.”

“I can just take a taxi-”

“Martier, I need to pick you up. Do you understand that?”

“Yes. I would like you to pick me up.” She gave him her flight information. She wouldn’t arrive at the airport until 5 am the next morning.

“I’ll be there.” He said.

“I—” she nearly told him that she loved him but stopped herself. Maybe after all this time it would be inappropriate. “Thank you. I’ll call you if anything develops.”

“Do that. Do you need me to do anything in the meantime?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Bye sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She smiled. Yes. She would see him tomorrow. 

Chapter 45

Martier showered and then dressed in fresh clothes. She hadn’t been to sleep but it would be a long flight and she knew that she could sleep then. For now she had several loose ends that needed taken care of and this time she would do things the right way.

She didn’t have many possessions, mostly clothes and a few pairs of shoes. She packed these in her book bag and in a suitcase with wheels. She then placed the two pies carefully in a shopping bag.  Martier looked behind her at the small apartment and then closed and locked the door knowing that she would never see it again.

It was just a short walk to the Centre, which is one of the reasons that it had been perfect for her. The sun was just rising and she could already tell that it would be a hot day. It was the short dry season that they had right before the rains. The rains would replenish the lush tropical plants, preparing them for the long dry season.

She paid close attention to the sites and smells of Rwanda. The world was awakening, preparing for a new day. The ghosts of the past put to rest as life moved on. She had to remember that; life moved on. She finally reached the Memorial Centre. The offices weren’t yet open but she had a key to enter the documentation center, which was just one department of the entire facility. She set one pie in the conference room and the other she took to the office and placed it on Geoff’s desk. She was happy that she had offered to make him the pie. Now it would be a way for her to say goodbye and thank you.

She then logged into the computer and typed her name into the database. The information quickly populated. She was mentioned in only three areas; in connection with her father, her testimony given only a few short weeks before and then finally when she was counted as a survivor of an attack that had taken the lives of her brother, mother and two sisters.

She read the account again as well as the accounts of the other people involved. Not one of them ever mentioned Chuma. Afterwards she researched Kakayo and discovered that the last act of murder he had confessed to was that of Yook Besigye. Lastly she pulled up the name Chuma—she didn’t recall the boy’s last name. The only time the name was mentioned was within her testimony.

Chuma would now be a twenty-three or twenty-four year old young man, and if he was anything like her than he was on the brink of adulthood and he was unsure, afraid, confused.

Her testimony had yet to be cross-referenced. She quickly entered her password and then she deleted the six year old boy’s name. No one knew…and now no one ever would.