I was seven when the 1994 genocide began. We couldn't escape the capital city because of blockades and we were always the target, waiting to be the next victims. Then it was our time to die. There were fifteen people in our house including my parents, sister and two brothers. They ordered us to sit in our living room and, to make a long story short, in the evening they started shooting on us. I don’t remember much after I was shot, but the next morning I came back to my senses. It felt like the end of the world. I was alone except for one person who was badly wounded and took a long time to die; I wished I was dead too. Before he died, he told me to walk to the neighbors who weren't targeted by the killers. I waited two days in the house, then left and a neighbor took me in.

[After several months, David was reunited with an aunt who had also survived the killings.  He is presently a student at Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, OK]

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