From Red Earth. Denise Uwimana

us had ever seen the man before. A few days later, on March 26, Charles was inexplicably released, after nearly six months in prison.

      The evening of my husband’s homecoming, several friends came to our house, bringing food and drink for an impromptu party. Engrossed in conversation with one of them, Charles did not at first notice Charles-Vital banging his leg and singing, over and over, “Papa, Papa, Imana ishimwe cyane,” “Papa, Papa, give great praise to God!” – changing the words of a hymn to fit the occasion. Our child had never enunciated these words before.

      Charles lifted him in a heartfelt hug. My heart was singing too as I watched them; we were a complete family. I hoped that our troubles were over – that now we could live happily ever after, as in my mother’s legends. We would serve the Lord together, leading the life I had envisioned at our wedding.

      Despite our relief and pleasure, however, Charles seemed somewhat guarded. He shared few details of what he had endured in prison, beyond saying that he had been beaten. I did not press. I was sure he would tell me more once he had recovered – never guessing how brief our reunion would be.