For Gassilde, growing up as a Hutu girl in Burundi in the 1960s means she has little choice about the path her life will take. It means she will marry young-and that the man she marries will have little or no respect for women. It means her father, brothers, and eventually her husband will have the right to beat her-or worse. It means she will grow up in a farm community without an education. As one of seven children, she, along with her sisters and her mother, is expected to work in the fields each day to provide food for the family. But Gassilde's mother, Claudia, wants a better life for Gassilde, and with a Tutsi friend devises a way for Gassilde to go to school-against her father's wishes and with horrible consequences. With a newfound ability to dream of a life different from that of her mother and sisters, Gassilde's future is set on a path where she faces conflict at every turn. This new life exposes her to extreme racism and violence-but, most of all, it exposes her to hope.

GASSILDE

Troubles of an African GirlBy Jean d'Or Nkezabahizi Kristen Duever

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Jean d'Or Nkezabahizi
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-4454-2

Chapter One

A Simple Life—Rural Burundi—1966

It was time for Gassilde to go home. She had spent the day turning soil with her mother and sisters, soil that would soon be producing enough vegetables for her, her parents and her seven siblings. The wheat and beans that were growing on the other side of the field would be ready for harvest soon too. Yes, her father and brothers tended cows for milk and goats for milk and meat (to kill a cow would only happen on very special occasions), but these things were luxuries. Most of the family's food would be by the work of the women.

Every member of the family had a job to do. The women worked in the fields to grow vegetables and the men looked after goats and cows. The men also kept guard for Tutsi thieves that might try to steal from a Hutu family. Gassilde knew there were Tutsi farms in the area but her and her siblings were forbidden by their father to go near them. But Gassilde was glad not to go near the Tutsi farms. She had heard the stories of how they would cut up Hutu children with their machetes. Gassilde was glad that she was not one of them and she was more than happy to stay within the safety of her own family farm.

Gassilde smiled, looking out over the vast fields of freshly turned soil. At nine years of age, she could work the farm almost as quickly as her sisters. The Burundian countryside looked beautiful with its lush farmlands surrounded by the bluish mountains in the distance. Here in the Eastern Burundi—in the Ngara region, it was a warm spring day, and the faint breeze felt good as it cooled the sweat on Gassilde's face and the fresh grasses waving gently with the breeze gave off their delicious scent.

"Gassilde!" the voice of her older sister Kabude interrupted, "Let's go".

"Coming sister," she replied.

"And bring Anna", Kabude continued. Gassilde looked down to see her younger sister, Anna sitting at her feet and playing in the dirt. Not yet even four years old, Anna was no help at all on the farm. But somebody had to look after her—and that somebody was usually Gassilde. Just like Kabude looked after Gassilde when she was too small to be helpful, and as Melanie and looked after Kabude and as Marie had looked after Melanie.

"I guess it's just my turn to look after someone", Gassilde said aloud to no one in particular.

Just then, two small arms with chubby hands then wrapped themselves around Gassilde's waist. "I love you, sister," said little Anna, looking up with her chubby, though rather dirty face.

"I love you too, sister," said Gassilde—"Let's go home".

Gassilde took Anna's hand and began walking across the large plot of land which was owned by her father. Her mother and sisters were already well ahead of them.

From behind, a voice called out to her. "Hey, slow poke! Mamma and our other sisters are almost home—how come you're still lingering out here?" It was her second eldest brother, Athanas who was leading two goats by a tether. Walking next him, was the eldest of Gassilde's siblings, Aster who was leading a cow.

"I'm still ahead of you!" Gassilde said as turned back to see her brother.

"Oh, you're cheeky aren't you," laughed Athanas, "I bet it's going to cost Papa a whole cow to find you a husband."

Gassilde just shrugged, sticking her tongue out at her older brother.

Athanas, who was fifteen, was slim and tall—well, tall for a Hutu anyway—and very handsome. He was the charmer of the family and just a little bit of a show off. Aster, who was a year older than Athanas was stockier, also still quite a good-looking boy but he was quiet and moody.

The boys, who had been tending to the goats and cattle all day, jogged a little, pulling harder on their animals to catch up with Gassilde and Anna.

"Where are Papa and Fabier?" asked Gassilde.

"Fabier fell down and hurt himself because somebody wasn't paying attention" Aster said glaring at his brother. "Papa took him home." To emphasize his point, Aster reached out and roughly gave Athanas a shove.

Athanas gave a startled look, but did not say anything.

"Is he ok?" asked Gassilde.

"Course he's ok," blurted out Athanas, "He only likes to cry to get me in trouble."

"He's ok," confirmed Aster "no thanks to him."

When the four arrived home, Mamma and Melanie were already busy preparing dinner. As they approached home, the aroma of boiled beans, onions and other vegetables met them. The site of her family's home was a welcome sight to Gassilde after working all day in the fields. Like many of her friends, Gassilde lived in a grass hut with her family that consisted of three main areas: a kitchen and a living room as well as room where the animals would be kept during the night in order to protect them from being stolen by nearby Tutsi farmers. The banana leaves that formed the roof were woven together where they reached a long point in the middle. Gassilde's house was similar in appearance to the other Hutu houses in the region of Ngara. It was also the same style of dwelling that belonged to the Tutsi and even the Batwa.

In the evening one of Gassilde's brothers would milk their cow, and afterwards the family would enjoy a traditional meal with her family. Gassilde's mother, her sisters and herself would share a plate of beans and vegetables. They would laugh and enjoy each other's company as they used their fingers to eat off the handmade plate that was made by one of the local Batwa families. Gassilde's father and brothers would share a separate plate of food.

Sometimes, after their evening meal, the whole family would go outside and sit by the fire while one of the adults told a story. Usually the stories were exciting tales about the Hutu gods and ghosts that lived in the area. Gassilde would hug her knees tightly as she listened.

Sometimes however, the stories were meant to instill in the children how thankful that they should be to be living in a Hutu home. Often when he had been drinking too much, Gassilde's father would gather all his children together and tell them about the peoples of Burundi. There were the Hutu of course—that was who they were—the hardworking, honest farmers. There were Batwa or "Twa"—they were not bad people but there were only a few of them and they would have less ability to defend themselves against the third group of people—the Tutsi's.

"Never, never trust a Tutsi!" father would exclaim in a loud voice. "They are thieves and murderers! They do not love Burundi—they are on the side of the white man. They would destroy the ways of the Hutu if we let them".

Gassilde and her siblings had grown up listening to her father's drunken rants. Gassilde wished that there were no Tutsi's in Burundi. She did not want to be their next victim.

Gassilde couldn't imagine why anyone would want to live any differently although her parents had both told her that houses in the city were very different from theirs. There were other homes in the area, but being mostly farmers and herders, there was a good deal of distance between them.

Gassilde's village was small so often times, someone from the family would travel to the next village which was larger. In this larger village, people were somewhat wealthier as could be seen by the larger number of cows that most...