I didn't feel reassured by this. I knew that if he was made to go with them, they will kill him as soon as they were alone.

"Just take his bike and money," I continued, "but let him go home."

Then, an older man came. He was their chief, and he was also armed with a machete. "What's going on here," he asked angrily.

"We were working on this Tutsi dog, when this Hutu dog came here and disturbed us."

I begged the chief to let the young boy go free. The chief struck me with his machete, hitting me on my back. I fell to my knees, begging him for mercy. Then they all started to beat us. They tried to kick me away and continued to punch the young Tutsi who was still tied up.

After a while their chief said, "I'm going to let him go, but you must know that you are not allowed to pass by here again, especially during these times." They untied him and pushed him away. He fell down. I helped him onto my bike, and took him away.

You have to know that in those days, as a Hutu, I wasn't able to go to Tutsi areas. His commune had displaced Tutsi families from Kabezi. If I had gone there, I would have been killed. So when we arrived a few miles from his commune, I told him to continue on his on and bid him goodbye. He was very grateful and thanked me for saving his life.

He continued up to the commune, and I came back home. One thing is, we didn't knew each other before that day. He remained my friend up to the day God took his life. I choose to save him because I knew he was a human being. Even if we didn't share the same ethnic group, we are all children of God.

Interview by Maziar Bahari
Translated by Gladys Ntibareha
Edited by David Shem-Tov