A humble, touching tale of faith in the face of horror. Gilbert Tuhabonyemana (his original name, shortened because running announcers got tired of saying the whole thing) grew up in relative peace in Burundi, Africa. A member of the minority yet dominant Tutsi ethnic group, he tended his family’s livestock and dreamed of a career in running. His stories of his childhood in this turbulent country are enlightening. When most of us think of Africa, we think of war-torn, poverty-stricken, hungry, thirsty, backwards countries in which all the children are swollen and fly-blown. On the contrary, Tuhabonye and his family lived a modest but peaceful life only occasionally touched by ethnic violence; the children were happy and always had enough to eat. He does not sugarcoat the gender differences; he notes that his mother and sister were always the last to eat and always worked the hardest.

The story of how Tuhabonye came to be the only survivor of a brutal Hutu attack on his school when he was 19 years old is interspersed with the happy stories of his childhood, providing a stark contrast that breaks the reader’s heart.

He also provides insights into the “survivor’s guilt” phenomenon, discussing how over and over he wondered why he should be the sole survivor of the horrific attack, during which Hutus rounded up the students, herded them into a concrete building, and set the building alight. To survive, Tuhabonye had to hide beneath the burning bodies of his classmates, sustaining terrible burns himself.

Above all, this is a story of how someone who has seen such horror can not only retain but become stronger in his faith.

Tags: Africa, childhood, genocide, Gilbert Tuhabonye, injustice, poverty, war