Left To Tell

Excerpt from Left To Tell: Discovering God Admist the Rwandan Holocaust
by Immaculee Ilibagiza

Seven weeks in the bathroom left us all frighteningly gaunt--our bones pushed into our flesh, and our skin sagged. Sitting on the hard floor became increasingly uncomfortable as our muscle and fat disappeared, leaving us with no padding on our bottoms. Despite having two additional women with us, the bathroom grew roomier every day. We were shrinking, and our starvation diet left us weak and light-headed much of the time. I could tell by my clothes that I’d lost at least 40 pounds (and I was only 115 pounds to begin with). Our skin was pale, our lips were cracked, and our gums were swollen and sore. To make matters worse, since we hadn’t showered or changed clothes since we arrived, we were plagued by a vicious infestation of body lice. Sometimes the tiny bugs grew so engorged with our blood that we could see them marching across our faces…

I found a place in the bathroom to call my own: a small corner of my heart. I retreated there as soon as I awoke, and stayed there until I slept. It was my sacred garden, where I spoke with God, meditated on His words, and nurtured my spiritual self…I spent hours contemplating the meaning of a single word, such as forgiveness, faith or hope. I spent days with the word surrender, and I came to understand what it meant to surrender one’s self to a Higher Power. I gave myself over completely to God…

In the distance I could hear the killers singing their hunting song as they approached the house…I wanted to cry, but no tears came. My heart wa shardening to the constant onslaught of sorrows. I didn’t even feel anger towards the pastor…I once again asked Him for a sign that He was watching over us. The pastor opened the door and, without saying a word, handed me the Bible I’d asked for earlier. I opened it immediately and looked down at Psalm 91:

This I declare, that He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I am trusting Him. For He rescues you from every trap and protects you from the fatal plague. He will shield you with His wings! They will shelter you. His faithful promises are your armor. Now you don’t need to be afraid of the dark any more, nor fear the dangers of the day; nor dread the plagues of darkness, nor disasters in the morning.
Though a thousand fall at my side, though ten thousand are dying around me, the evil will not touch me.


(Dustjacket blurb: In 1994 Immaculee was 22 years old and home from college to spend Easter with her family when the death of Rwanda’s Hutu president sparked a three-month slaughter of nearly one million ethnic Tutsis. She survived by hiding in a Hutu pastor’s tiny bathroom with seven other starving women for 91 cramped, terrifying days. This searing firsthand accound of Ilibagiza’s experience cuts two ways: her description of the evil that was perpetrated, including the brutal murders of her family members, is soul-numbingly devastating, yet the story of her unquenchable faith and connection to God throughout the ordeal uplifts and inspires. This book is a precious addition to the literature that tries to make sense of humankind’s seemingly bottomless depravity and counterbalancing hope in an all-powerful, loving God.)