"Every night, I sleep through the same nightmare. I hear a roar coming towards me, an increasingly menacing rumour. I don't turn round. I don't need to. I know who's chasing me… I know they have machetes. Somehow, without turning around, I know they have machetes… Sometimes there are my classmates too. I hear their screams when they fall. When they… Now I'm running alone, I know I'm going to fall, I know I'm going to be trampled, I don't want to feel the cold of the blade on my neck, I…
I wake up. I'm in France. The house is silent. My children are asleep in their room.
– Scholastique Mukasonga, in her book "Inyenzi ou les Cafards" (incipit)
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