Life s little less

The war torn nation was robbing Habimana of all that was dear to him. A cold patch was enveloping his stricken heart as hope ebbed uncontrolled from deep inside him. Life here was worthless. Everywhere you turned, it was been tossed up in the air in grotesque style. The images disturbed him, for whenever he would close his eyes to sleep, men bearing machetes laughed luridly as they chopped off the heads of mothers running for their lives as the babies slugged over their backs met their abrupt end. The cries were inexplicably sad. The frightened faces as they watched the blades about to hack them always made him fidget back to wakefulness.

He had watched helplessly; when they slithered unseen into his village, when the first earth shattering scream tore through the calm night like a thrusting meteorite. He had seen the flash of the swinging blades as they hacked his dear parents and an only sister to death under the moonlight. The raucous laughter as the men filled their nostrils with fresh blood and made wanton dances in enchanted excitement as if they had salvaged the greatest loot in the world had driven away any faith that still lingered in his heart. The demon like orgies that took place afterwards had made him retch. Weak and shocked, he had ran away as fast as his shaking legs could carry him away from the madness that had suddenly gripped a people who once calm now bathed themselves in blood baths. It was senseless.