The Forbidden Question: God Postpones my Death

One morning, a soldier whose left leg had been shot by a senior officer told Gahima that he had heard a rumour that he was going to be killed the following day. The poor man said he was shot by a senior officer who accused him of disobedience. They sat with this man for quite a long time. It was about six good hours. They were busy trying to plan Gahima’s escape from the hospital. The officer stood to answer a phone and left. They separated without reaching a sensible solution. Escaping from this place actually meant escaping death. Memories of the films he had watched on war and detective started coming to his mind. That very evening, a soldier who had stayed in the hospital for about seven months died. All the officers and men were moving up and down. “If I do not escape today I will be a king of fools,” Gahima thought to himself. In the confusion, a soldier who carried the body to the waiting ambulance forgot an SMG rifle at the balcony. Fortunately, it was loaded with two magazines. Gahima earnestly picked it and waited for the right time that never came. Late in the night he went towards the quarter guard. There were only two men. He was determined to kill them, since he was also waiting for his death the following day. Luckily, they were snoring. He tiptoed past them and went hurriedly to Rutaremara’s home where he could hide. Rutaremara was his intimate friend. He was staying at Remera-Giporoso in Remera suburb of Kigali. Gahima could confide in him just like his own brother. Rutaremara was much older than him. At least he was confident he would get a piece of advice from him. The gun was the only possession the Major General had. He knocked at his door several times without an answer. Ends