Rwanda. 1992
The bright and warm-colored shawl, in which she had wrapped herself, expressed life when everything around her was dark and rough. As she walked towards her gray earth house, she looked like a weary queen. Like a treasure one hesitates to share, she grabbed a frame full of pictures. Silently, she held it in front of her, for a long time. Then with a voice broken from sickness and mourning, she said they were the pictures of her life, of past happiness. She said everything now was nothing but a memory, and that memory, even though precious, would not hold anyone back. She admitted, as though she were holding a secret heavy with shame, that her husband was dying of AIDS, and that he had passed on the disease to her. Finally, she added: "I am aware of his death pangs. I know I will go through the same."