 Last Days of Thomas Sankara On the 15th of October 1987, one of the most revolutionary and admired African leaders, Thomas Sankara was assassinated. It was a most painful and sad date for the people of Burkina Faso, and even Africa as a whole, because the man was the true definition of a leader. His four years as president of Burkina Faso saw tremendous changes in the country. He was able to transform Burkina Faso from a poor country, dependent on foreign aid to one that was an economically independent and socially progressive nation. He perched corruption, slashed minister salaries, empowered women, and implemented literacy and immunization programs. He was truly exceptional and if he had lived long enough, Burkina Faso would not be as it is today. Unfortunately, he was assassinated. It seems as if Sankara had an inkling about his death, because one week before he was assassinated, he said, while revolutionaries as individuals can be murdered, you cannot kill ideas. But did he know he would be betrayed by his best friend? We will never know, however, in this video, we take a look at Thomas Sankara's last day on Earth and his last words as recounted by Alama Trier, legal advisor to Sankara, and the lone survivor of the attack that killed Sankara, and his as well as his wife. Merriam Sankara. October 15, 1987, Merriam Sankara woke up beside her husband, Thomas Sankara, who had finally joined her in bed the previous night. Silently on tiptoes, she left the room and prepared to go to work as she had to be there at three. She didn't wake up her husband because it was a usual routine. Sankara would sleep for another hour as it was the only time he would recover from the previous night's stress. Sankara's schedule for the day included one, a meeting at 4 p.m., where he leaves one of the three weekly meetings for his special cabinet. On this particular day, the agenda for the meeting was a report from one of his advisors who has just returned from Khatanou, where he was speaking with the leaders of the Revolutionary People's Party of Benin and collecting documents on the Beninese Code of Revolutionary Conduct. The project to create a newspaper of the CNR, National Council of the Revolution. Two, at 8 p.m., a complicated meeting regarding the OMR, Revolutionary Military Organization. Around 3 p.m., Mariam Sankara called her husband on the phone, but it was Philip, her eldest son who was seven at the time, who answered. Daddy is in the shower, he said. Ten minutes later, the president, wearing a white T-shirt and red jogging trousers, is ready to leave but stopped to answer the call from his wife who had called again. First, I am going to my 4 p.m. meeting at the concealed dill intent. He said and continued that I'm going to sport at 5 p.m. afterwards. I'll probably come home for a shower, but you won't be home yet. I won't see you till after the 8 p.m. meeting. We'll talk tonight, he ended. If only she knew that that was the last time she would talk to her husband. In the meantime, the members of the special cabinet have begun to arrive in one of the villas of the Cartel Council, which serves as the headquarters of the NCR. Alana Truray and Pauline Babele-Bamounique made a detour through the offices to the presidency just opposite. The others, Bonaventure-Campire, Frédéric Quimde and Petra Zegre, came directly to the council. Christof Saba, the permanent secretary for the CNR, has been there since this morning. At 1620, Trayor decided to call the president who had not yet left his residence, where he was talking with another one of his advisors, the deputy director of the presidential press, Serge Thafiou-Balema. We are here, Mr. President. It is late and we are waiting for you, he said. I'll be right there, Sankara replied. He then sends Balma back and enters into a black fujot 205. The president sat in the passenger seat, as usual, explaining as he always did, I like to see the road and from behind you can't see anything. In the back seat set two bodyguards. The car following them is occupied by three other bodyguards, plus the driver, also a soldier. They are all dressed in sportswear this fateful Thursday afternoon. Twice a week, in fact, on Monday and Thursday from 5 p.m., the Birkenau Bay are supposed to do exercise. The president and his guards are, therefore, only armed with their automatic pistol. At the council, the members of the special firm are also dressed in sportswear, with the exception of Patrick Zagray, who came in a Mao shirt. At 4.30 p.m., the president arrives. He got out of the 205, followed by four of his guards, who settled in the corridor adjoining the meeting rooms. The drivers parked the two cars in a nearby courtyard and took shelter from the sun in the shade of the tall trees, particularly the mean trees, which lined the garden. At 16.35 p.m., the chairman takes a seat at the end of the U-shaped meeting table. Warrant Officer Christopher Saba, Paul and Bimini, and Frideric Chimede are seated on his right. On his left are Patrick Zagray, Bonaventure Compiré, and Alana Truray. Thomas Sankara, always late, but also always in a hurry, opened the working session saying, let's make it quick, let's start. Alana Truray, who the day before was based on fact finding mission in Continu, begins his report. I left a wago the day before yesterday at 6 p.m. He stops, his voice suddenly muffled by the sound of a most likely pierced exhaust pipe from an approaching car. Shocked and annoyed, Sankara asks, what is that noise? He is soon joined by Saba, who frowns and asks, what is that noise? The noise gets louder, or a covered Toyota says the only direct witness who survived. The car stopped in front of the small gate of the villa. Immediately the noise of the engine was covered by the roar of Kalachinikov shots. The seven men gathered in the room flat on the floor, hiding behind the armchairs. Among them the only one to be armed since his guards remained in the corridor, or in the garden was Sankara who grabs his gun, which he had placed on the table within reach. From outside someone shouts, get out, come out. Sankara gets up, sighs loudly, and orders his counselors, stay, stay. It's me they want, this was to be his last words before he left the earth brutally. According to Alana Treer, Sankara left the meeting room with his hands in the air and just a few steps out of the room he was gunned down. The guards, the drivers and a biker from the police, who came by chance to bring mail to the CNR headquarters had all been shot in the first burst of gunfire. A former member of President of Faso's Guard, a man nicknamed Otis, who had since then been reinstated in the rags of the paracomandos of Pope bursts into the meeting room and pushes the president's collaborators towards the exit. Shouting out, get out, get out. All those who obeyed were shot in turn. At the last moment, Patrick Zagre tries to take refuge in the meeting room, but a shot in the back finishes him off. Alana Treer, through sheer fear or survivorship, both perhaps found himself lying on the gravel alive, bathed in the blood of his comrades, whose moans and sighs of agony he hears as if he was in a nightmare. Among those lying on the gravel included four civilian members of the special cabinet, Paul and Pumumi, Patrick Zagre, and Derek Kimday and Bonaventure Comperé. Eight soldiers, including warrant officer Christof Saba, a poor police officer who was passing by, the drivers of the presidential convoy, and four bodyguards. Alana stepped over the PS body without even realizing it. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Thomas Sankara on the floor with the two shots to the head that immediately killed him. Suddenly he hears someone shouting, referring to him there is one who isn't dead. The one in blue, let him get up. He stood up in response and was told to move forward and lie back on the ground between two other bodies, those of the two drivers. Alana feels agitated, covered in blood without a scratch on him. Around him, the commandos are still firing, but this time in the air, as if they wanted the outside world to believe that there was a fight going on within the walls of the concealed dental intent, and with acrimony, as if they wanted to believe that they were really fighting and defending themselves. This went on for a long time, perhaps 30 minutes, until they had used up all their ammunition. Still, on the ground, Alana looks from the corner of his eyes and sees the driver guard of Captain Blaise Comperé's body, Hamidou Maga, walking towards him, wearing a blue mechanic's overalls. He looks at Alana and says to the others, leave it, I'll finish him off. Another officer with a scared face, whom Alana would later say he didn't know, objected and shouted, bring me the survivor. Alana Turei was brought to him and ordered to lie down. He tries to crawl and get close to the wall, but hers the scared officer shout behind him, stay still. Otherwise you'll join the others. When asked how long he lay on the ground, Alana would later say two or three hours without further explanation. Afterwards, a soldier came to threaten him, saying you saw everything. We can't let you leave like that. You're going to join the others. Alana doesn't understand the situation he is in. He has gone beyond the stage of fear and has taken refuge in the world of the absurd. At the time, his only desire was to urinate. He was allowed to do so, and he went to relieve himself for a long time between the flowers of the gardens of the concealed dill intent, transformed that very afternoon into a killing field. He was then taken upstairs to the floor of a villa where CNR agents were grouped together, who hurt everything without having seen anything of the drama, the doctor-warren officer Yusuf Woodrago, assistant to the warren officer, Christoph Saba, and the whole secretariat of the Loran Kebarae, who also worked at the CNR. In the middle of them, he was surprised to discover Basso Bay, a guard of the president. The Loran Kebarae's blue sports outfit is soaked in blood. His hands, face, and hair are bloody. He is told to wash himself and then to sit down. Long after the sun had set, Alana hurst cars maneuvering in the alleys of the Cartel Council. He risks a glance out the window. The 13 corpses have disappeared. Tankers are cleaning the scene of the drama with large water jets. He will spend the night behind the scenes. He won't sleep. Over and over in his head is only one question. What could the president have done to deserve this?