They came walking, walking.
    They came walking, walking up the long, steep hill.
    They came trudging, trudging.
    They came trudging, trudging up the long, steep hill.
    Loaded down with bundles of firewood on their heads
    They came walking, walking.

    Women, plenty of women, men, girls, boys
    A long line of bewildered children.
    An endless stream of weary humanity.
    5 10 20 40 80 160 320…
    And still they came.
    They came walking, walking.

    Then the pouring rain came.
    In torrents, in sheets — a cold, biting rain.
    Still they came walking up the long, steep hill.
    Balancing bundles of branches and heavy logs on their heads
    Occasionally being blown across the wind-swept road.
    They came walking, walking.

    We watched warm and dry
    Inside our Toyota pick-up truck.
    Peering out of rain-splashed windows.
    Whipped by the wind, they slowly staggered by with tired and
pained faces.
    Wet bits of clothing clinging to frail bodies
    They came walking, walking.

    We drove slowly for three kilometers down the long, steep
hill.
    During the biggest downpour
    Forced to pull off the road and park.
    After the heavy rain stopped
    We drove slowly back up the long, steep hill.
    They came walking, walking.

    Some sat exhausted with their firewood by the side of the
road.
    Drenched and shivering.
    Large tree limbs and logs left abandoned.
    Others trudged ahead in a wet daze.
    Still others reeled from fatigue.
    They came walking, walking.

    It was the road by the Benaco Refugee Camp.
    Northwestern Tanzania.
    Late October, 1994.
    Overnight the second largest city in Tanzania.
    Now 255,000 wet, shivering Hutu refugees from Rwanda.
    GENOCIDAL WAR IS HELL!