"Did you never kill with your own hands?"
"It's possible I did," Girumuhatse said. "Because if I didn't they'd have killed my wife."
"Possible?" I said. "Or true?"
Bosco, the translator, said, "You know what he means," and didn't translate the question.

I'm not sure I learned a whole lot about Rwanda, so much as I did about about the politics that surround what it means to be Rwandan at the end of the twentieth century, specifically from the viewpoint of a white journalist.