Dear Paul,
Sixty-nine years old. Congratulations! Most men your age are fighting gravity, forgetting names, and pretending their adult children still call. You get to measure your life in body bags, empty chairs, and Swiss bank statements.
How many people have you killed by now?
Impressive. Really. Most dictators peak early. You kept the production line running.
How many children have you orphaned?
Impressive. An entire generation that will never know their parents, courtesy of your efficiency.
How many Rwandans have you forced into exile?
Impressive. You’ve basically run a deportation service with better branding.
How many have simply vanished? No grave, no trial, no explanation.
Impressive. Clean work.
And the money. How much have you and your family extracted from a country that still has people living on $2 a day?
Impressive doesn’t even cover it. You’ve turned the national treasury into a personal investment portfolio. Respect.
Most leaders at 69 are writing self-serving memoirs about “difficult decisions.” You’re still making the difficult decisions.
That’s dedication.
So, here’s to you, Paul. May you live long. May your heart stay strong. May your security detail never blink. And may you continue killing, orphaning, disappearing, and looting with the same tireless professionalism that got you this far.
The numbers won’t pad themselves.
Warmest regards from a safe country,
Someone who can still say your name without disappearingDiscussion
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