The perpetrators are nowhere to be seen, melting back into the rhythm of the neighbourhood, where life goes on as usual, and only murmured tales of misery attest to the spilling of more blood. No one can understand it - the earnest aid workers, the impatient businessmen, the peace negotiators, least of all the Burundians themselves. It is Sunday afternoon at Saga Beach, a few kilometres outside the town. The atmosphere is jovial, tempered by the presence of small military units patrolling among the revellers, reminding us of the ever-present possibility of indiscriminate attacks from the hills. A few brave spirits are splashing about in the waves of Lake Tanganyika, throwing a ball back and forth.
Most people stay clear.
There is talk of an 8m-long crocodile, the biggest ever recorded in the world, which has been known to wander down this far. The thought of the crocodile is fearsome, but not as fearsome as what men have shown themselves to be capable of. Those who can hear his words murmur their agreement. It is not so much a statement as a question for the heart.