Writing Assignment 8

Remember My Country

A plane fell from the sky
And all fell with it.
It was then that I entered Hell,
Afraid of never escaping
Waiting
Shaking
Crying…
The stench of bodies,
The loss
The fear.
I will never be able to forget.
My country,
Refrain from hatred.
And you, who reads this,
Remember Rwanda.
Remember
Those who suffered.
Those who killed.
Those who died.
Remember me, my family,
My country.

“On this night of April 6th 1994, my Hutu friends, I have terrible news. Our President Juvénal Habyarimana and the President of Burundi, Cyprien Ntaryamira, were shot down in a plane to Kigali. Today, the peace talks come to an end, and you know as well as I do that we must punish the cockroaches who are responsible for these deaths. It is now that you must cut the tall trees. I repeat, cut the tall trees!” I still remember the moment these words were spoken on the Radio Mille Collines, when the expression on my mother’s face was the most troubled I had ever seen it. I sat in the living room of our small house in Kigali with my mother, father, and sister, all of us crowded around our small radio.

“What does he mean by cut the tall trees, mama?” I remember my sister saying. My mother did not answer. She only gave my father a worried look. But three violent pounds on our door interrupted any chance to exchange words.

“Military! Open the door!” Pounding again. My mother instantly drew my sister and I closer to her.

“You must get out now!” said my father in a harsh whisper, “Tom, go with your mother and sister. Hide in the bushes out back. Do not make a sound! Go now, take anything of value that you can!” My mother frantically ran to her bedroom to collect her jewelry as the pounding on our door continued. I can still remember the voice, the sound of the fist banging on the wood, haunting.

After embracing my father and taking the keys to our car, my mother grabbed my hand and I, my sisters, as we escaped through the back door and into the brush that separated our yard from our neighbor’s. We huddled together, shaking, straining our ears to hear what was happening inside. I glanced toward our neighbor’s yard, only to see the house in flames. Bloody, motionless bodies lay on the ground. My mother gasped and shielded my eyes toward her chest as I began to weep.

It was then that we heard the shouting from the house—the muffled yells of my father and the military man. It ended with a gunshot. A gunshot that pierced my heart, and still leaves a wound. My mother clamped her hand to her mouth as the shock paralyzed her. It only took a few minutes for the men to drive away in their military truck. Soon, our own house was enveloped in an angry blaze, and we knew there was no helping him. My mother wept and wept, the tears flowing as a stream, and I wept with her. At the age of thirteen, I did not know of anything I could do but embrace her, even in my own pain. How do you find comfort when someone so special has been lost?

“You there!” The fear struck me as it rarely has before, “Come out from there!” A member of the Hutu militia had found us. “Come out, you cockroaches!”

“Please sir,” replied my mother as she wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up, “It is only I and my children.” He pointed the gun at us threateningly. “We will leave, I promise, if you only let us take our car. We will go.”

“And what makes you think I will let you do that?” The smirk on his face and the way he looked at my mother disgusted me.

“Because I have all this to give you.” My mother pulled jewelry out of her pocket, and stretched her hand out toward him. “It is real silver and gold. Please, take it. And we will leave.”

His eyes lit up the way they do when greed takes over. “Alright…I suppose you can go. Just go quickly! And never come back!”

“Thank you. Thank you, sir. Come quickly, children!” My mother hurried us to our car, and I was fearful of the soldier changing his mind. But he did not. We drove toward the center of Kigali, as roadblocks prevented us from leaving the city. It is still difficult for me to describe what I saw on those death-ridden roads. I can remember the stench, the blood, the upturned cars, the fiery houses. My mother began to speak as tears ran down her pale cheeks, “I am sorry. Don’t look and don’t worry. We will find a place where we can sleep, and then I will take you to your father’s friend, Paul. He may be able to help us.” My mother stared off down the street, still as a stone, cheeks damp, but no expression. I sat in a daze, holding my sister’s hand, for what must have been about twenty minutes. My mother pulled the car into a seemingly secluded garage where we were to sleep for the remainder of the night. My sleep was restless for hours, but I eventually drifted off, my mother and sister lying next to me…

I thought I heard the pounds of a fist against our wooden door again, but I awoke only to remember the happenings of the night before, and to see a young man banging against the window of our car. He suddenly broke the window and opened the door, waving a bloodstained machete in the air. My screams woke my mother and sister, and my mother frantically got out of the car in her determination to protect us. The colorful shirt the young man wore made it clear that he was a member of the Interhamwe, the ones that we knew to fear the most.

He grabbed my arm, squeezing it to the point where I thought it would burst, and as I cringed at the thought of his machete coming down upon me, he yelled that we must all follow him onto the street. There were others with him that we could see now, and we knew there was no way of resisting them. We followed him to the street, only to see a large group of armed members of the Interhamwe surrounding other Tutsis that were lined up against a wall. The look of utter fear on their faces was all too familiar, and I could not help but stare at the ground, as I could not bring myself to look into their eyes.

My mother, sister, and I were thrust upon the wall, and my sister began to cry at the pain of her fall. As I went to comfort her, a member of the Interhamwe pushed my mother up against the wall and brought a machete to her neck, causing my sister to sob even louder. It was then that I closed my eyes, ready for them to take my mother and my sister, ready for them to take me.

Writing Assignment 7: Dialogue

Saint Januarius in the Amphitheatre

“Please Timotheus, have mercy on us. We do not wish to anger you, or to condemn all of Paganism because of our beliefs. We have found a faith that can unite us all, and will welcome us all, and we only wish to be free to believe as we may.” I have never seen a man defend his beliefs so nobly! Especially not to the ruler of Campania! How brave Januarius is, for standing up to Timotheus, who is tempted to condemn us to death, I am sure. I need to be brave like Januarius, for all Christians, and for my own life!

“Yes, please, Timotheus…”

“That is alright, Proculus. Let me handle this, as I am in the position to do so.” How rude…I only wish to defend Januarius. I suppose he believes he can do so on his own. Please God, let us be saved!

“I cannot excuse you and your men, Januarius. Through your betrayal of the Gods, and have insulted them and, in turn, you have insulted me. The fiery furnace is the fate that awaits you and your men, and I am sure your God will not be able to save you there!”

“If that is your decision, Timotheus, then so be it. But I do believe that God will save us, for we have our own ways of asking for his help.”

Who is that grabbing my arm? “Januarius, the soldiers are taking us away! Should we fight?!”

“No Proculus, there is no need. We will go without a fight. Pray to God as we leave. Pray that he will save us.”

Please God, help us. Help Januarius, Festus, Socius, Desiderius, Eutyches, Acutius, and me. We follow you and are faithful, and we do not wish to burn in the flames of the fiery furnace. I do not believe it is our time to die quite yet, for we still need to spread your word, and build a family of Christians who will love and follow you. Oh no! We are approaching the furnace. I can see it now! Please God, as quickly as you can, please protect us from these flames.

“I have prayed, Januarius, but I do not know how much good it will do.”

“I prayed too, Proculus. It has done something, I am sure. Just have faith! It is in His hands now.”

“Festus, you heard Januarius. Have faith! Try to look confident. Pray!”

“Oh Proculus, your innocence fools you. I do not see how we will get out of this one. See there—Januarius just entered the furnace. I fear it is your turn.”

My lord the furnace is hot! “Oh Januarius! How can we survive this? I fear that there is nothing we can do now, save die in the good graces of God, for I can feel the fire on my toes now, and they burn!”

“Wait a moment, Proculus. For already, I can no longer feel the flames licking at my feet. Our prayers have been answered.”

“My Lord, You are right! They are no longer hot. This is God’s doing?”

“Of course it is. I told you he would help us. As the others come in, they will also not be harmed. We are saved, at least from this.”

Oh, thank you! I cannot believe this is really happening—that God has truly protected us. He is the mighty power! I am sure of that now! And for as long as I live, I will follow him, for he has blessed me beyond all expectations.

“Proculus, I hear the guards coming now to open the doors of the furnace. Stay near. I am sure they will try something new, and that Timotheus is extremely angry that the furnace did not kill us. He most likely has some other fate for us up his sleeve.”

“Don’t worry, Januarius. I have new confidence now. God will protect us again! No matter what Timotheus tries next. I am sure of it. But where do you think they will be taking us now?”

“You are going to the amphitheatre, you scum! Where you will be fed to the lions and bears! I doubt your God has control over what they do!” This soldier has a demented twinkle in his eye that I do not like. I hope he is not right in his predictions. But oh, how I should hate to be killed in a theatre for all to see. How humiliating it will be to have all the citizens yelling and throwing things at us, like our death is their entertainment. How society welcomes that behavior I will never guess!

“Don’t lose face, Proculus. Just remember to be confident and proud, and don’t listen to anything that the people shout at us. I will see to it that God protects us again. He, after all, created the animals as well, and should be able to control their fates just like He controls ours.” I hope Januarius is right. God has proven his abilities to us once now. Perhaps he will show them to us again.

Walking with these soldiers in the midst of these crowds is too humiliating to bear. Ugh, they are throwing bad fruit at me! How it stinks! Januarius is too great a man to deserve this. Why do people ridicule us like this?

“Ha ha! Let’s see how tasty the bears and lions think you are! Hopefully you will not be to their liking! Here, take this rotten fruit. Perhaps it will ward them off! Ha ha ha!" What scum, they do not deserve my attention. I must hold my head up high like Januarius, and set an example for the others, so that they can have hope, too!

“Proculus, pray again, for we are approaching the theatre. Ask for protection from the lions and bears. I see them now and they look ominous. I will try to tame them, but I need the help of God.”

“Of course, Januarius, I will do what I can. Best of luck to you, and if we are not successful, I will see you in the afterlife!

Dear God, help Januarius tame the animals. They will eat us if he does not, and we need your help in controlling them. Please, give Januarius the authority and power over them that he so desperately needs now!

“Animals, obey me! Be tame before us. We do not with to harm you. Let us be friends, for we were both created by the same hands!”

I cannot believe my eyes! It is working! Januarius raises his hands in blessing and the lions kneel down to lick his feet. Oh thank you God, your mercy has saved us!

Writing Assignment 6: Satire

On This Perfect Day

“It’s a sign!” I woke up to my alarm clock shortly after I realized what song was coming from its speakers, and can you believe it, it was playing “Perfect Day” by Hoku! One of my all-time favorites! I jumped out of bed, ready to start my first day of college, the song giving me new confidence and excitement. On this perfect day, nothing’s standing in my way. On this perfect day, when nothing can go wrong. This is going to be great, I thought, today’s going to be the best day ever!

Being unusually perky at seven in the morning, I grabbed my pink towel and walked down the hallway to the bathroom, dancing a little on the way as I could still hear the song coming from my alarm. I had plenty of time to get ready for my ten o’clock class, thank god, as I wanted to look my absolute best. With curlers still in my hair, I put a shower cap on them as I stepped into the shower, letting the warm water trickle over my skin. I hummed “Perfect Day” as I shaved my legs, making sure not to miss a spot. I had gone tanning the day before and was pleased to see that my skin looked nice today, even darker than it was before. I was excited to take the curlers out of my hair once I was finished showering, as I had found instructions for a new hair-do in Vogue and was anxious to see the results.

As I got out of the shower, one of the other pledges, Cindy, came in to brush her teeth. “Hi Cindy!” I said, “Are you excited for today?”

“Definitely,” she replied, “Especially for tonight! Party at Pi Kappa Sigma! They are so hot. I’m gonna need your advice tonight on an outfit.”

“Sure!” I said, “I’ll see you tonight then!”

“Ok, bye!” said Cindy, as I left the bathroom. I can’t believe Cindy actually expects me to help her choose an outfit, I thought. Hasn’t she gotten the hint that she’s annoying me? Oh well, I’ll just make sure to avoid her tonight so I won’t have to be seen with her at Pi Kappa Sigma. I don’t get why so many guys like her—she isn’t even that pretty if you really look at her.

As I walked into to my room, I grabbed the outfit I had picked out the night before that was folded on my desk-chair. I put on my favorite low-rise jeans, a yellow tank top, and wedge sandals as I took out the curlers in my hair. And let me tell you, I had never seen my hair look so good. Thank you, Vogue! The loose waves definitely complimented the shape of my face. I would for sure be turning heads tonight.

After I carefully applied my make-up and packed up my things for class, I went down to the dining hall to find several girls having breakfast. I had my usual Frosted Flakes for breakfast and grabbed an apple for lunch, as I was on a new diet. The room seemed to be abuzz with excitement, as everyone was a little anxious for their first day.

I then walked to class with a couple girls in the sorority who also had class at ten o’clock. However, it’s not even worth it to tell you about Microeconomics or Accounting that day. If the cute boys weren’t distracting me during class, I was probably spacing out or doodling in my notebook. Those classes are going to be so boring! I can’t drop them, though, as I have to take them for the Business major. I’ll probably just have my dad help me out—he knows everything about everything. The rest of the day on campus was fine though—I can’t believe how many people go to UW! There are so many people to meet and things to do.

But let’s fast-forward to tonight—the only event of the day that really matters! As I restyled my hair, all the girls in the sorority were getting ready for the party. The sound of hair dryers and pre-funk music filled the house. I made sure that Cindy did not see me when I came home, and had my other friend, Maggie, hang out with me as we got ready. After consulting her for advice, I decided to wear my turquoise halter-top with a plunging neckline and a pair of dark-washed jeans with my favorite pair of high-heels. Damn, I looked hot. No denying it! Soon enough, though, it was time to leave, and after taking plenty of group photos we all headed out to Pi Kappa Sigma.

Even though it had been warm that day and Pi Kappa Sigma was only a couple blocks away, it had definitely cooled down for the night and I felt frozen by the time I got there. Better to have that, though, than to have to worry about a coat. I felt kind of silly walking over in my halter-top, but I had had enough pre-funk drinks to not worry about it. Plus, all the other girls were just as scantily clad on the way over as I was!

When we entered the fraternity, we were greeted by bumping music, drinks in plastic red cups, and all the cutest guys I had ever seen in one place. With a big smile on my face, I let all the older sorority girls introduce me to the boys of Pi Kappa Sigma. One guy, in particular, named Kevin, took an interest in me and asked me to dance. He was definitely a hottie and a junior, so I accepted right away. Already buzzed by the drinks I had had, we moved onto the floor and danced to Chris Brown and the Ying Yang twins. After a few songs, he offered to get me a drink and I accepted willingly. He came back with a neon-green glowing drink, explaining that the energy drink, Rock Star, glowed in the black light. The drink was gone pretty fast—it always got easier for me to drink as I had more.

After about ten minutes, though, I was surprised to find my vision blurring, my head pounding. How many drinks did I have, I thought. Did I really have that many? Seeing Kevin smiling at me, I made sure not to give him any hints that I was worried, and continued dancing with him. Soon enough, though, I started to feel even dizzier and finally told Kevin that I needed to take a break and get away from all the people. He understood and told me I could go up to his room and relax. Thinking that lying down sounded very appealing, I let him lead me upstairs and to his bed where he said I could rest for a half hour or so. As I curled up and heard the door close, I instantly felt better. Finally I was away from the crowded dance floor and all the loud music that was making my head pound. However, when I opened my eyes as I changed my position, I was surprised to see the blurry outline of Kevin still in the room. He was sitting in a chair nearby.

“Why aren’t you downstairs with everyone else?” I asked.

“Shhh,” he said, “Just relax and don’t worry about me.” He soon got up to move closer to me, and my heart started pounding as he sat down on the bed and started caressing my leg. What was he doing? Should I call out for help? Before I could think of what to do next, my vision began to slip away from me, and without warning, everything went black.

Writing Assignment 5

Tonight’s Ball

Katherine inhaled the sweet, fresh air as she made her way home after her morning walk. The air was brisk and turned her cheeks a rosy hue, but she adored the feeling it gave her, exalting. She stopped by a pasture where a beautiful horse stood, careful to keep her gown out of the mud, and stroked its long neck. How beautiful, she thought, If only my family could afford such a magnificent horse. She stroked it longingly for a while until the wind almost took her bonnet from her head and she decided it was time to return home. Her mother would soon need assistance with morning chores, and if she did not return home now, she knew her mother would be unpleasantly vexed.

As Katherine walked down the driveway to her home, her mind wandered toward the book she had started this week. She hoped she would have time to read it today, for it was full of intrigue and forbidden love affairs. As Katherine was now of an age, she, too, was to be thinking of someone to marry. Convinced that only the deepest love would induce her into matrimony, Katherine began to dread the ball that was to take place tonight, as she could just imagine her mother pushing her onto the richest men at the party, as she did at every ball. Tonight, a young man named Charles Whittaker with an income of seven thousand pounds a year was hosting the ball, as he had just settled in at Netherfield for a few months, at least. Katherine, however, could care less, as she could just imagine the mundane, tiring talk, and the seemingly never-ending dancing through which she would have to suffer. Besides, with nothing but her charms to recommend her, Katherine was sure no man of seven thousand pounds was going to ask her for her hand in marriage, no matter how well-respected her family was despite their unfortunate circumstances. Perhaps her father could excuse her from attending the night’s festivities.

As the maid, Margaret, opened the door for Katherine and she removed her bonnet, Katherine was greeted by the shouts of her two younger sisters who were arguing over a gown that would be worn to tonight’s ball. They were in such a rage, that Jane nearly knocked a candlestick onto the wooden floor. “Stop your bickering!” yelled Katherine, “Jane, give the gown to Charlotte, for it does not suit you. Wear your blue gown instead. If you do not stop arguing, you will surely start a fire!” Katherine went to move the candlestick away from harm’s way as Jane stormed from the room and Charlotte clutched the gown to her breast in silent victory. “Don’t look so smug, Charlotte. If father had seen this, you would not be so pleased.” Charlotte glared at Katherine as she left the room, her head held high with her hair still in braids. Katherine then went to help her mother with her duties, including preparing for that night’s activities. When she saw her mother in the frantic stress that always accompanied preparations for entering into an event of good society, it was clear that she would have to attend the ball with her family.

That night, Katherine stepped off the carriage in a white gown looking just as handsome as any other girl entering the ball, even if her dress was not quite as grand as some. Margaret had done her hair well, as she adorned Katherine’s golden tendrils with sweet baby’s breath. Katherine, however, was still not pleased to be there, as she could already spot the shallow and boring people filing into the entrance of Mr. Whittaker’s mansion. It is quite a site though, Katherine thought. She couldn’t help but be impressed with the utter grandeur of his home. And this is only a temporary house, she thought, I can’t imagine what his actual home must be like. And to be mistress of all this? But without another thought to be had, Katherine felt her mother pushing her toward the entrance, clearly eager to meet Mr. Whittaker.

As they entered the house, people were already dancing and drinking merrily. Many of the faces were all people with whom Katherine was acquainted, as Netherfield was, after all, a very small town. Her mother, of course, was quick to point out Mr. Whittaker, who was standing in the corner with his sister and her fiancé. Well, he is quite handsome, Katherine thought, I must give him credit for that. Mr. Whittaker was tall and dark-haired. His face possessed strong features and his figure was lean. He was dressed, of course, very handsomely in a blue coat. Katherine’s father guided them toward Mr. Whittaker for an introduction, and as they approached him, Katherine could not help but see how proud he seemed to be. She wondered if he was enjoying himself at all.

As Katherine was introduced, she smiled and curtsied and said everything politely as she should. Her sisters were behaving exceedingly silly, as they giggled and smiled at everything Mr. Whittaker said. Bored and somewhat embarrassed, Katherine’s eyes wandered toward the ceiling to admire the decorations. Suddenly, however, she was surprised to hear Mr. Whittaker address her personally. “Pardon me?” she said. Katherine could not believe it, but he was asking to claim the next dance. With no excuse to come up with, Katherine accepted, even to the displeasure of his sister.

They entered the dance floor and began to dance; men and women wove between each other, the gowns swaying to and fro, the men’s boots stomping on the wooden floors. Mr. Whittaker’s hands were cold, but Katherine much preferred them to warm and clammy hands. He smiled at her as they danced, making Katherine blush, for she had never received such attentions from a man of his stature before. He asked her to dance two more times that night, and they were able to talk of things that Katherine had never talked about at a ball before—literature, politics, and art. At the end of the evening, Mr. Whittaker escorted Katherine and her family to their carriage. She and her family were the last to leave. They said their good-byes and as the carriage drove away, she turned around to look at Mr. Whittaker, who still stood in the middle of the driveway. He soon disappeared as they turned a corner, and a smile crept on Katherine’s face as she settled in for the journey home.