The poor light hid detail from the building but we walked towards it nevertheless. Lights burned in several of the windows.
We let David do the talking. The old man who’d admitted us - a shuffling Rwandan - ushered us into a sparsely decorated hallway. Various religious paintings adorned the walls. A rickety staircase rose into the darkness to our right. He led us along a dimly-lit corridor towards a room at the rear of the building.
A woman stood as we entered. Grey hair peeped out from beneath her blue wimple. Her face was lined with kindness and she greeted us warmly.
“My name is Sister Claudine.” She spoke English with a gentle accent. “Welcome to the convent of the Sisters of Saint Francis.”
She gave us a brief tour of the place. Unused to the practices of organised religion, I was impressed by the atmosphere of reverence that surrounded the convent. That may sound strange, given the fact that we were taking refuge within the confines of a religious order, but the horrors that were occurring elsewhere in Rwanda seemed distant. We were shown to our rooms on the first floor, both containing a pair of single beds. David and Joel took one room, allowing Karen and me to take the other.
After unpacking our meagre belongings and washing in the basin that seemed to deliver only cold water, we returned downstairs. There was a smaller room, separate from that of the nuns, and we ate a simple meal of soup and cold meat with vegetables. Sister Claudine accompanied us. Our conversation touched on the reason for our visit to Kigali, and I was again struck by how shallow and mercenary our motives seemed. Sister Claudine’s eyes clouded when she spoke of what she’d heard about Fabrice.
“Like all false gods, he is surrounded by people who wish to commit sin.” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “I find it hard to believe that you have come all this way, for what? – Just to take a photograph?”
I nodded. “To take a photograph…with extreme prejudice.” Either she didn’t get the reference or she didn’t find it funny. An uncomfortable silence fell upon us.
David bowed his head politely. “Sister Claudine, we are very grateful for your hospitality, but we must impose no more upon you. I think my friends have – “
“The boy’s tribe attacked a family several weeks ago.” The words sounded harsh in the silence of the dining room. Her eyes locked on mine. “The family had been fleeing from their home. They killed the children and raped the mother.”
I heard Karen inhale sharply.
“They tortured the father for several days but he managed to escape. He came here. We did our best to help him but the madness had…infected him. He left us. Several days later I heard he had consulted a sorcerer, someone from the hills. He chose a dark path instead of the one we offered.”
“My God.” Karen held her hand across her mouth. I wasn’t sure whether this was because of the story, or her blasphemy. “What happened to them?”
“A man comes here every two weeks to deliver supplies. He told me, according to the reports, that a jinn has been invoked. People are afraid.”
“What happened to the family?”
Sister Claudine blinked. “His wife and children had been killed. These people are very superstitious. They believe that a great sacrifice is required to summon a jinn. The man slit his own throat - as instructed by the sorcerer - to unleash the jinn in a fit of vengeance.”
I have no idea how, but the conversation shifted quite suddenly onto something lighter. By the time we finished the meal and retired to our room we had managed to repair the feeling of awkwardness that had festered between us and Sister Claudine. I felt we had reconciled our Westerners’ lack of understanding with their country’s beliefs.
Our room seemed dimmer than it had before the meal. We were both tired from the hike across the fields, so it wasn’t long before we were asleep. My dreams were troubled; creatures made of black smoke walked through the grass, their eyes glowing with fiery intent. I awoke disturbed, a faint shriek trembling on the edge of my lips. With relief I realised where I was, and in an effort to shake the remnants of the vision from my mind I climbed out of bed and approached the sink. I splashed cold water onto my face, its bite invigorating me.
I became aware of a noise from the bed. Karen, too, was dreaming. Her face was twitching and her breath came in sobs. She was writhing slightly, and from the moonlight that poured in through the window, I could see the sweat on her body. A murmur escaped her lips.
Frowning, I approached, tilting my head to one side. Had I heard correctly? Did she just say Joel? I watched her for a second. Maybe she had said no. Her movement under the covers suggested arousal rather than fear. I gently shook her by the shoulder.
“Hmmm? What – Jason?” She opened her eyes, wide in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You were having a dream, that’s all.”
“Oh.” She closed her eyes, turned over and returned to sleep. I settled down next to her but it was quite a while before my mind allowed me back to sleep. When at last it did come, it was restless, made uncomfortable by the wedge of resentment that had been driven between us.
The room was unbearably hot the following morning. The window was a shimmering haze of light and I sat up in surprise. I was alone in the room. Dressing and washing quickly, I went downstairs. There was an unbelievably lovely aroma of cooking food. At the foot of the stairs I caught a glimpse directly into the small dining room in which we’d been entertained the previous evening. Karen and Joel were sitting at the table, laughing at something that Joel had just said. Their mirth abated somewhat as I entered the room.
“Morning, Jason,” said Karen. “Thought you’d never get up.”
“It’s not that late.” I glanced at my watch.
“Sit down, buddy.” Joel stood. “I’ll tell the cook you’re up now.”
“Where’s David?” I took a seat next to Karen as Joel left the room.
“He’s gone to organise some supplies. He thinks we might be able to get our shots today, and be back here for nightfall.”
I felt disgruntled, as if they’d all been organising things while I’d slept. David entered, followed by a young lad carrying a plate of food. I began to eat enthusiastically, as David and Karen drifted out into the corridor. Joel joined them. I could hear their conversation as I ate, and this added to my feeling of dislocation. Maybe I was just tired, but the paranoia was beginning to get to me.
After I’d gulped down my breakfast I joined them out in the yard. The nuns had created a modest vegetable patch in the land adjoining the building. Rows of sprouting vegetation ran the length of the furrows like leafy markers.
We double-checked our rucksacks. I sat in the shade of a moringa tree and took out my Nikon, making sure the batteries were still okay, looking over the light meter and checking the hot-shoe contacts were free of dust and moisture. Karen helped David refill our water canisters and stow them in the rucksacks.
I felt suddenly, as we crouched there in the sun, an overwhelming sense of inevitability, a dark cloud on our horizon. I stood and urged my friends together, arms outstretched so they could join me. Offering my camera to David, I posed on the veranda, Joel and Karen either side, smiling uncertainly at the lens. Just last week I was looking at the photo in my apartment, realising that it captured the final time we were all together before death swept in.
We said our goodbyes to Sister Claudine. I discreetly slipped a wad of francs into the collection box in the hallway. Soon we were out in the fields. Just as we topped a low hill, I sneaked a final glimpse back towards the convent. It was almost as if I needed reassurance that polite society still existed out here in the wilderness.
As we walked, I brought up the subject of the jinn.
David seemed to consider his words carefully. “This is a country with an ancient history. Some people have beliefs that stretch back many generations.”
I threw a bemused glance at him. “But a sorcerer conjuring jinns?”
He shrugged. “Is that any less rea
listic than those of western faiths? Would you believe a man could return from the dead any more than you’d believe a monster could be conjured using black magic?”
“Fair point.” I looked at him. “You don’t believe then?”
He was staring ahead into the trees. For ages he didn’t speak. “As a child I was brought up in the faith of Catholicism.”
“And now?”
His eyes seemed to darken. “I have seen a great deal recently to test what I previously believed to be right and wrong.”
We walked on for a while in silence. I chewed over his words, trying to prevent his thoughts from unnerving me. Joel and Karen chatted brightly alongside us.
After about an hour of walking, I suddenly spotted a looping coil of black smoke in the sky some distance ahead. I looked at David, but he shook his head gravely.
“We’re some way distant yet – this isn’t Fabrice’s place.”
We continued carefully, Karen and Joel falling to the rear. We entered a small copse of trees, peering through the branches towards the clearing that angled upwards at a gentle slope.
4
A ramshackle hut stood desolate and conspicuous in a ripped clearing. A clutch of chickens pecked the ground. Smoke was rising gently behind the dwelling, creating a dark cloud.
“Wait here.” David walked cautiously into the clearing. I followed close by, noticing his right hand move slowly towards a Velcro strap on the side of his rucksack.
The earth around the door of the hut was scuffed and bleached. David tried to peer in through the small window, but the grime and the interior netting conspired to obscure the view. He gently tried the handle of the door. Part of me wanted it to be locked, but I felt a surge of adrenaline when it opened and he slowly pushed the door.
The hut – which looked like it was usually home to several people – was empty. Two chairs were overturned, and the sheets had been dragged off the ramshackle bed that crouched in the corner. Broken pieces of earthenware pottery were scattered across the floor. David suddenly touched the edge of the table and held his hand up to the light that struggled to filter through the window. “Blood.”
We went back outside and walked round the back of the building. A grain store was propped against the hut, blackened and smouldering, its wooden struts protruding from the chassis of the frame. The fire had been doused by something – possibly the damp air that had descended upon us quite suddenly – and I felt myself looking toward the perimeter of the clearing, where the trees seemed to intrude.
David picked up a thick tarpaulin from the back of the adjacent shed and covered the remaining flames, dampening the smoke. Soon he drew it back and we gazed at the dying embers. “Let’s go on.”
We moved back to where Karen and Joel anxiously waited. I fired off some photos of the dwelling. Together we continued. My mind was preoccupied with the scenes at the abandoned hut and, not for the first time, I wondered if we understood the full implication of what we were taking on.
Within minutes the dark clouds had gathered and I could sense the electricity in the air. We plodded onward, our conversation light and positive. We talked about things from back home, the familiar details that reminded us of our normal lives. I found myself missing my office. We’d only left home four days earlier but already it felt like an eternity.
Underfoot, the terrain was grassy and rutted. No sooner had we reached the summit of a low hill than we faced countless others beyond. I noticed the vegetation was altering as we progressed, becoming more leafy and tree-like. I’d been surprised by how rural the country appeared when we’d first arrived in Rwanda; now we were going to experience something that my ignorant mind realised was jungle.
Drips of perspiration tickled my body. Flies buzzed ahead of us in the heat. The sky was darkening, closing its grey wings over the diminishing amber light. Objects shimmered in the distance, the heat-haze twisting things unfamiliar. We broke for a rest in the shade of a rocky tor... A stream bubbled between the rocks, plunging underground several feet away. David directed us to refill our flasks. I, for one, was grateful for the break. Joel and Karen had been silent for quite a while and I was starting to feel that their moods were synchronised, something that irritated me intensely. The welcoming chill of the water burned my throat.
I sat next to Karen for a few moments. She was red-faced, her features slick with perspiration. She nodded at me reassuringly, but I sensed a slight crumbling beneath the exterior, a tiny erosion of her confidence. I squeezed her knee and reminded her that we’d be home in a couple of days. While we talked I watched Joel prowling the perimeter of the clearing, looking into the dense trees that fringed the clearing, twitchy with nerves. Occasional snaps of branches or bird cries from the forest elicited wide-eyed responses from him. I’d be lying if I said his behaviour didn’t please me.
Eventually David turned from where he’d been peering across the valley through a set of brass binoculars. “We’re getting close.” He hitched his backpack onto his shoulder and smiled at us.
We set off once again. I fell into pace next to David, feeling satisfied that my moment with Karen had helped repair our relationship. I allowed myself to ignore that they were following together. Instead I enjoyed the trek, relaxing in the prospect of us attaining our target, focusing on not missing our opportunity to get the photo that would make us famous.
I was comfortable in David’s company; the more time I spent with the man the deeper I appreciated his acceptance of our proposal, even though it was at odds with his own beliefs and concerns. I asked him if he was nervous of encountering Fabrice.
He shrugged. “It’s true he commands a great deal of influence. Yet he is still a boy. Maybe power is something that should only be bestowed on those mature enough to handle responsibility.”
I stared out across the valley. “Power seems to attract people, whatever their age.”
Soon we were descending the slope, wading through the tall grass. Flies hovered ahead, frantic in their movement. A narrow track encircled the valley, winding down towards a building that stood isolated in the foot of the basin. We stepped onto the track, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. I stared at the silent house that awaited us, relieved as we plunged again into the cover of the overgrown grassland. It seemed like the building drifted towards us on a sea of green, as my senses went into overdrive, alert for any sense of danger. It felt like we were trapped inside a glass jar; the darkening clouds had smothered the breeze. I could almost taste the moisture in the air.
The house was dark and silent. As we drew close I became aware of a low moan coming from further around the veranda. We froze for a second. The sound came again. David crept up the steps, peering round the corner of the building. From my vantage point on the bottom stair I could see a black man sprawled on the decking, arms outstretched, low moans coming from him. David quickly knelt down and examined him. The man’s prone state inspired a little courage in me; I followed and peered inquisitively.
His eyes were closed, tears flowing down his dark, weathered cheeks. His body was wracked by spasms, causing his limbs to judder. David loosened the man’s shirt at the neck and leaned in close to examine him. White foam bubbled at the man’s lips as he murmured incoherently.
David frowned. “He’s delirious.” He lifted one of the man’s eyelids. “Looks like he’s been poisoned.” I recoiled slightly at the man’s white bulging eye rolling in its socket.
“Will he be all right?” My voice sounded lost in the panic.
David shrugged. Behind us I heard the swing door open and then close; I listened to Karen and Joel moving inside the house. There was a huge tear in the man’s clothing, revealing a glistening wound in his shoulder. The screen door banged again and Karen appeared holding a cloth.
“It’s empty.” She handed the cloth to David, who pressed it against the man’s shoulder. He grimaced and thrashed his head from side to side. Again I could see his eyeballs rolling beneath the lids. After a few moments he grew s
till.
“I think he’s unconscious.” David stood. “We should move him inside.”
“What’s happened to him?” Joel nodded from the top of the porch steps.
David shrugged. “He has a wound to his shoulder. Looks like something ripped into him, though his symptoms suggest poison.”
“Machete?”
David looked at me. “Maybe.”
We lifted the man and heaved his body into the house, taking care not to jolt him. I was struck by how smothered the atmosphere felt inside. Dry shadows scuttled in the corners.
We laid the man on a wicker sofa in the centre of the room. Joel drew a bowl of water and Karen bathed the gash on the man’s shoulder with some towels from the kitchen. David took me to one side.
“Jason, we need to think about finding the boy. It’ll be getting dark before we know it.”
I nodded towards the unconscious man. “What about him?”
“Two people are just as effective as four. I thought you and I might leave Karen and Joel here with him, and we’ll go and get your photographs.”
I nodded slowly. In a way I felt more reassured leaving Karen in the house, as if its walls offered sanctuary from whatever lay without.
The ochre sky outside bled into the late afternoon as the clouds thickened and stole away the light. After we’d transferred the wounded man to the bedroom, David explained our intention to the party. Karen threw me a worried glance but I smiled in reassurance and nodded casually.
“We should be back before nightfall.”
Within half an hour we were ready. Joel had decided to spend his time propped in a chair next to the unconscious man’s bed, a solitary vigil. Before David and I left we all shook hands and he wished us well. I took my Sony Discman from my rucksack and pressed it to him. The look in his eyes meant he knew I was trusting him with much more than my Nirvana CD. David allowed me a brief moment with Karen, as he searched the rear outbuildings for anything of use. Her eyes scoured my face for any sign of nerves, although I managed to mask my true emotion. On the steps of the veranda we embraced. I kissed her, and then David and I turned and began heading towards the foot of the valley, beyond a grove of trees that extended as far as the farmland. Just as we reached a slope at the head of the canyon, I turned and looked back at the distant house. The veranda was empty.
Darkest Minds Page 15