[ WP ] Make me sympathize with someone responsible for genocide .

Arthur Kutu curled the tobacco paper steadily between his fingers and flashed a brilliant white smile. With the utmost care, he packed the tobacco down, sealed the edge between his lips and struck a match on the bottom of his upturned boot. His dark eyes smiled through the haze of smoke as they examined the reporter through the small pane of glass. 
 
 If it had been any other day, no one would have suspected Kutu was wanted for the death of three quarters of a million of his own countrymen. He sat in the cramped room with careless abandon. And why should n't he? This was his realm. The police, the military, and the press found ample space in the crevasses of his ever-expanding pockets. This interview was nothing more than a publicity stunt for the Americans. The eagle had flown into the hyena den. 
 
 Kutu leaned back as the reporter, finished with her pleasantries and paperwork, opened the door and swung her pack onto the table between them. Her pale, smooth complexion was in stark contrast to his pocked opal skin. Deep creases cradled his jawline and his crimson beret fit snug over a bald head. He eyed her form through cracked Aviator sun glasses and took another long drag of his cigarette. He was not impressed. He preferred the shapely tribal women to half-starved chickens. 
 
 `` General Kutu,'' the reporter started and extended a hand, `` I'm Jenny Ross with...'' 
 
 `` Associated Press,'' Kutu interrupted, keeping his hand to his side, `` please sit.'' 
 
 Ross nodded and retracted her hand. She rummaged through her satchel. 
 
 `` No recordings,'' Kutu said, eyeing her cassette player. 
 
 `` The guards said...'' 
 
 `` I changed my mind,'' Kutu said in a puff of smoke. 
 
 `` How do you expect me to conduct an interview?'' Ross huffed, `` they took my typewriter at the gate. Something about propaganda.'' 
 
 Kutu smiled and held up a crooked pencil. 
 
 `` With all due respect, sir, the interview is extensive,'' Ross furrowed her brow. 
 
 `` Then I suggest,'' Kutu slid the pencil over to her and pointed to a stack of paper in the corner, `` that you write fast.'' 
 
 He loved the journalists who believed they were in control and he loved the moment when they first realized that they in fact, were not. He relished sudden shift in power. Everyone has their trigger points and Kutu prided himself in finding all the right buttons to push. 
 
 `` General,'' Ross began again after jotting a few hasty notes on the first piece of paper, `` you are claiming that your actions in the Teyunda Valley were acts of suppressing an uprising of Mubai people, but the world is calling it genocide. How do you respond to these allegations?'' 
 
 `` I like you,'' Kutu said, flashing a toothy smile, `` you are... what is the American phrase? Straight to the point.'' 
 
 `` Answer the question sir,'' Ross said, looking up from her paper. 
 
 `` This is true,'' Kutu said in another puff of smoke, `` the Mubai rebels had become a problem.'' 
 
 `` A problem that warranted the deaths of 750,000 people?'' Ross fired right back. 
 
 The Teyunda Valley had been a hotbed of contention. It was a battleground of political idealism and anti-government rallying. What did this American know of that? Her view was so narrowed through a television set that it made her blind to the true issues. 
 
 `` It had to be done,'' Kutu said and nodded as if agreeing with himself. 
 
 `` Women,'' Ross added, `` and children. There were not even any weapons found among the dead.'' 
 
 `` Guns are not the only weapons,'' Kutu twirled his finger signaling Ross to flip over the page she had been taking notes on. On the other side was the square-jawed face of Kutu's arch political rival and statesman Emar Tetumbe. Across Tetumbe's face were the emboldened words `` Down with Kutu, Up with change.'' 
 
 `` A political statement only,'' Ross said, `` it does not seem enough to justify genocide.'' 
 
 `` Suppression.'' Kutu corrected, `` Tetumbe has the Mubai's unwavering support.'' 
 
 `` Mass killing.'' 
 
 `` You surprise me Mrs. Ross,'' Kutu's mouth became a hard line, `` I would expect that you of all people would understand that words carry weight. They matter a great deal.'' 
 
 `` Should n't the burden of dead children carry weight as well?'' Ross pressed. 
 
 `` To save a country of millions of Letsi.'' Kutu fired back, `` I would gladly shoulder this weight.'' 
 
 `` So this is the aftermath of Letsi aggression towards the Mubai?'' 
 
 Smug Americans, Kutu thought, they believe that things are so black and white. There were many forms of grey in the heart of Africa and there were darker shades than even they knew about. 
 
 `` This is not an ethnic war, it is a war of ideas.'' Kutu said, leaning his elbows onto the table. `` You Americans see an impoverished nation with a radical political figure like Tetumbe on the rise promoting change and you instantly believe he is a force for good. Not all radical change is good.'' 
 
 `` But you have had Russian support'' Ross prodded. 
 
 `` American propaganda.'' 
 
 `` We have reports,'' Ross reached for her bag, `` of you receiving arms from Russian suppliers.'' 
 
 `` Does this make me a Communist?'' Kutu said, `` America has made deals with countries who do not share their ideologies. I received Russian weaponry because America would not come to my aide. I will defend my nation against radicalism with or without America's help.'' 
 
 `` So you deny Russian influence?'' 
 
 `` I will buy from whoever is selling,'' Kutu continued, `` and I will say this.'' He re-lit his cigarette and blew a puff of smoke into the air, `` America would not help me because they want Tetumbe to seize power. They want continued instability in my country and among my people for their own gains.'' 
 
 `` And what gains are those?'' Ross said furiously writing. 
 
 `` Cause to continue attacks on Russia.'' 
 
 `` I do n't see the connection,'' Ross stopped writing and put the pencil down. 
 
 `` Have you read the Bible Mrs. Ross,'' Kutu said sitting back again. 
 
 `` Some of it.'' 
 
 `` In the first book of Genesis there are a pair of brothers.'' 
 
 `` Cain and Abel.'' 
 
 `` Yes,'' Kutu said with another draw on his cigarette, `` you are trying to equate my situation to the killing of my brother out of jealousy. This is not so.'' 
 
 `` What point are you making?'' Ross said. 
 
 `` Our country has one of the largest oil reserves in Africa. I would drill it and make our country wealthy. I would pull my people out of poverty and make us respectable. Tetumbe would stop this, seize power and siphon off the oil to the Communists. He would continue the oppression at the expense of millions for the sake of his people. America in turn would use this as an excuse to further their attacks on Russia.'' 
 
 Kutu's face began to redden as he continued. `` Instead of helping me bring my country into the light, they would supplant me by soiling my name with these allegations of genocide instead of recognizing that I am removing Tetumbe and his cancer from my nation.'' 
 
 Ross stopped and put the pencil down. `` So you see yourself as some sort of revolutionary?'' 
 
 `` In a way,'' Kutu nodded, `` but you still see me as a murderer.'' 
 
 `` I'm not sure.'' Ross said as she began to pack up her bag. She stood and slung the satchel over her shoulder. `` I believe we're done here.'' 
 
 Kutu stood. `` Mrs. Ross, I will not be a puppet and my country will suffer no longer. I would tell you one more story.'' 
 
 Ross turned and folded her arms. 
 
 `` There is an old African proverb that says there are two hyenas living inside of all of us. A good hyena and an evil one. They are constantly at war with each other. Do you know which one will win?'' 
 
 `` No.'' 
 
 `` The one you feed.'' Kutu flicked the cigarette butt down and crushed it under his foot. `` Countries are similar I think. I am just removing the evil one from mine.'' 
 
 `` That may be so,'' Ross said before exiting, `` but they're still left with a hyena begging for the scraps of others.'' 
 
 **** 
 
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