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 farmers had. There was also a market here, where people would often meet to barter meat and produce, or perhaps to hire a Batwa to repair a hut or for some other trade. Sometimes people would meet to play a game called, igisoro which was played using a wooden game board and seeds. Sometimes women would simply meet to talk. Mamma was always so happy after a trip to the big village, but whenever Gassilde was allowed to go with her, Gassilde could never quite figure out why Mamma liked it so much.

But Gassilde didn't care. Mamma and Papa seemed happy enough. She and her siblings were happy and growing up Hutu in rural Burundi during the 1960s was a good life.

One day, when Gassilde was not required to be working in the fields or looking after her little sister, she was playing near her home. That is when she heard Mama and Papa talking. Becoming very quiet, she lightly stepped up to an outside wall and placed her head near so she could hear what was going on.

Mamma and Papa would never have approved of her eavesdropping had they known about it, but Gassilde couldn't help herself. She was always curious about the things that adults said and did.

"That Sister came here again yesterday," came the voice of her mother.

"Well," scowled her father, "she may come all she likes, but she won't be taking any of my boys away from their work. What good did it ever do for a Hutu?"

"But the Sister said that Hutu children can learn just as well as Tutsi children." said Mamma.

"Tutsi children?" Papa roared, "You crazy woman! Why would I want my boys with those Tutsi pigs?"

Mamma went quiet. Gassilde tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat. She was afraid for Mamma. But Papa continued his rant.

"Ha, I can teach my boys more in six days than that school could teach him in six months!" said Papa, "My boys need to learn how to take care of animals—not how to read! What good is reading to a Hutu farmer? Can you feed your family by reading? I don't think so. And that Sister, is not getting any more of my boys"

"Well, she didn't come for one of your boys," said Mamma in a very quiet voice.

Papa paused and his anger seemed to subside. "Really? Well, then why did she come?"

"She came for Gassilde."

At hearing her name, Gassilde drew in a sharp breath. There was a pause in Mamma and Papa's conversation again and at first Gassilde was afraid that they had heard her listening outside. But they soon continued.

"Gassilde!" Papa exclaimed. "Gassilde is a girl! Why do they want her?"

"They want to teach girls at the school too."

"That is even more ridiculous than sending one of my boys. School is no place for a girl! What do they teach them? How to clean houses? How to have babies? She doesn't need school for that."

"No, they teach them things like reading and numbers and history," said Mamma.

"Ha," retorted Papa, "It would be better if they taught them to clean houses and have babies."

"She said there were girls in the city that went to school," said Mamma.

"Maybe, white European girls. Maybe Tutsi girls!" snarled Papa. "Are we Europeans? Are we Tutsi?—No. School is not for Hutus and school is not for girls. Those Sisters and Priests should go back where they came from. No boy and definitely no girl of mine is going to that school."

When Papa got like this, his word was final, so Mamma appeased him.

"Ok, I thought that would be your opinion," said Mamma calmly, "but I thought it was good for you to know what the Sisters were up to."

"Yes," said Papa, "It's good that you tell me these things."

"Abasi?" said Mamma "I'm going into the village tomorrow to meet with some of the other ladies."

"Fine," said Papa "Just don't neglect the farm."

"Of course not," answered Mamma.

Gassilde stepped away from hut wall. The Sister asked for her to go school? A girl? It was a strange thought to her and yet, Gassilde still wondered what it would be like if she was allowed to do what the boys of that area were allowed to do. What if she was allowed to sit with the men and listen to them talk? What if she was allowed to work with the cows and goats? What if she was allowed to go to school? Gassilde was curious, but she knew that Papa would never allow it."

The next morning, Gassilde's mother woke up early and got dressed. She hummed happily to herself as she prepared to leave for the nearby village which was a 90 minute walk. The rather harsh words of her husband from the day before were now all but put behind her. She was looking forward to seeing her friend.

"Can I come with you Mamma?" Gassilde said, poking her head up from the straw mat on the kitchen floor where she had sleeping next to her sisters.

"Not today," said Mamma.

"Why not?" asked Gassilde.

"Because, I'm doing grown-up things with the grown up ladies."

"But I can do grown-up things!" pleaded Gassilde "I can work in the fields as good as my sisters—maybe even almost as good as you."

Mamma pursed her lips and Gassilde could see that Mamma was thinking about it.

"Pleeeeaaase Mamma, please let me go."

Mamma hesitated. "Gassilde," she said, "If I take you with me to do grown up lady things, then you have to make the grown-up lady promise."

"What's the grown-up lady promise?"

"You have to promise that you will not say anything, and I mean anything to your father or to your brothers about where we go or who we talk to. Can you do that?"

"Oh yes, I will not say a thing," promised Gassilde.

"Gassilde, this is very, very important. Do you promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Then hurry up and get dressed, because I'm all ready to go."

And with that, Gassilde jumped up from her sleeping mat and got ready to go. Being careful not to disturb her sisters who were still sprawled out near the small stove in the kitchen, Gassilde walked with her mother through the living room where her father and brothers were just starting to wake.

"What are you two up to?" growled Aster as he sat up from where he had been sleeping.

"Gassilde and I are going to the big village today—your father already knows about it," replied his mother.

"Hmmf," Aster said, laying back down.

As two left together, Gassilde's mother once again began happily humming to herself. Gassilde didn't realize at that moment, but she was about to find out why Mama loved going into the village so much.

Chapter Two

A Secret Friend

The sun was not full in the sky yet, but already it was starting to get warm. Although she was still feeling a little sleepy, Gassilde trotted and skipped beside her mother as they headed toward the village. So often, Mamma had gone alone and at times when Gassilde did go with her, nothing really interesting had happened. But now, Gassilde thought to herself—now I am going with Mamma for a special grown-up reason.

When they were well away from their home and Gassilde was quite certain that Mamma would not change her mind about taking her, Gassilde asked, "What are we going to do in the village today Mamma?"

"I have a friend that we are going to visit," Mamma replied.

"What friend are we going to visit?" asked Gassilde.

"Jacqueline."

"I don't remember you ever telling me about a friend called Jacqueline," said Gassilde curiously.

"That's because I've never told you about her."

"But, why not?" asked Gassilde.

"Because sweetie, before you were not old enough to know about her."

Gassilde wrinkled her nose a little and squinted up at her mother. "Mamma, I don't understand ... how could I not be old enough to know about a friend of yours?"

Gassilde's mother stopped walking and took both of Gassilde's hands. "Gassilde, honey ... I had to make sure that you were old enough to keep a secret. Today, you promised me that you could keep a secret. Promise me again, you will not say anything to Papa and you will not say anything to your brothers."

"Yes Mamma! I promise," Gassilde said.

"And also promise me that you won't say anything to Anna. She isn't old enough for this secret yet."

"Yes, yes Mamma, I won't say anything."

"Ok then, I'll tell you," Mamma said quietly even though no one is around. "My friend Jacqueline ... she is a Tutsi."

Gassilde's eyes grew wide but she said nothing. Gassilde didn't know what to say. She had seen Tutsi people on occasion when she had been to the village before but she had never spoken to a Tutsi, much less gone to the home of a Tutsi. Gassilde bit her lip and glanced back toward home.

"Gassilde?" came the voice of her mother. "Are you ok?"

"Your friend is a Tutsi?" Gassilde asked in a near whisper.

"Yes, Gassilde. Jacqueline is a Tutsi and she is my friend," her mother answered in a reassuring voice. "That is why it is very, very important that your father and brothers do not know about her."

"Mamma?" Gassilde asked.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Is Jacqueline a good person?"

"Yes sweetie, Jacqueline is a very good person and I think that you will like her very much."

"I didn't know that a Tutsi could be a good person," admitted Gassilde.

"I know, sweetie, I know."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from GASSILDEby Jean d'Or Nkezabahizi Kristen Duever Copyright © 2011 by Jean d'Or Nkezabahizi. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.