The miasma of death hangs over the village of Nyarubuye, overpowering the scent of the surrounding eucalyptus trees. Their leaves, rustling in the wind, are all that moves. In the cool of the parish church, a body lies between the rough wooden pews, its skull split from crown to forehead by a machete blade. Outside, a mother and child, caught from behind by screaming Hutu militia, lie face down in the flowers, locked in a pitiful final embrace. Farther away, in a low mission building, 400 more bodies are piled on one another, the rooms thick with the stench of rotting...
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