Every evening I taught art to the children on the camp, their drawings were harrowing and therapeutic at the same time. Their pictures initially were of bodies in water and people stuck up trees but soon evolved into happier scenes of elephants rescuing people, and families in their tents smiling.
It is 1994. In Rwanda's Gisimba Orphange, 400 people huddle in silence. Terrified children hide in roof spaces and crawl under bunk beds to escape the regular onslaught of attackers. The people are a bribe, desperate plea or second glance away from slaughter.