Three seconds before he spoke, Salim Saleh stood at the microphone in Amahoro Stadium, and the weight of twenty years pressed against his chest. The October wind moved across Kigali, lifting flags, brushing past soldiers at attention, skimming the coffin of Fred Rwigema. Beneath his aviator lenses, Saleh was no longer a general. He was a teenager again, meeting a quiet refugee boy with fierce discipline; a young fighter training in Mozambique under Front for National Salvation; a bush commander