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Student, Artist and Writer @ Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria
Abuja, Nigeria
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Hotel Rwanda: Part 2 Finding Strength in the Chaos.
<p>After those first terrifying days, I started to realize that fear wasn’t the only thing filling the air. There was also this strange, stubborn thread of hope weaving through everything, hanging on by a strength I didn’t know people had.<br/></p><p><br/></p><p>Inside the Mille Collines hotel, the atmosphere was tense but alive. Paul kept things running like a tight ship. He wasn’t just a manager now he was a protector, a leader, and honestly, sometimes felt like the only steady hand in the storm. You could see it in the way he talked, the way he moved quickly but calmly, making sure everyone had food and water, and that nobody lost their cool completely.</p><p><br/></p><p>I started talking to people hiding in the hotel, hearing their stories some heartbreaking, some holding onto tiny sparks of resilience. There was this older woman who kept calling me “my child” no matter how many times I reminded her I wasn’t hers. She’d hug me tight like I was her last bit of family. Then there was this young boy who barely spoke but clutched his toy soldier like it was his armor.</p><p><br/></p><p>I wasn’t just a scared outsider anymore; I was part of this makeshift family trying to survive the madness. We didn’t know how long we’d be there, trapped inside this bubble of fragile safety.</p><p><br/></p><p>Every night, prayers whispered in Tutsi, Hutu, French, and even English mixed with sobs and quiet cries. But also with laughter sometimes small, wobbly laughs that reminded us we were still human, still holding onto a scrap of normal.</p><p><br/></p><p>Paul told us, “This hotel is your home now. We watch out for each other.” And maybe that’s what saved me most the feeling that even in the darkest, craziest moments, we had each other.</p><p><br/></p><p>The nightmare wasn’t over yet. But somehow, inside that hotel, we were learning how to hold onto hope.</p><p><br/></p>
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