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I write to you with tears in my eyes. The genocide killed our provider, the one who gave us food and clean water. My older brother was our support; he provided food for us and my mother, who was suffering from cancer. My brother was killed by a treacherous bullet to the head; he died instantly. My mother's health deteriorated afterward until she died from the hunger and disease that ravaged her body. My brother, my father, and I were left alone, with nothing to satisfy our hunger or silence our gnawing stomachs
