The rest were dying. I'm not particularly graceful, but I was trying my best not to step on anyone, not to disturb them. For those who were alive, I didn't want to make their last moments any worse. For the dead, I didn't want to disturb their peace. All of us in the Nightline team were picking our way deeper into the nightmare.
Refugee camps have a sound all their own.
It's a sort of dull roar of human misery. It sounded the same in Rwanda as it did in Kosovo or Somalia. But the smell. The smell of death. It overpowers you.