by Majok Tulba
The air thickens with fear. The men move among our group with rifles and angry words. They might leave us alone when they see we don’t have any goats, I think hopefully. They might even show us the way to the refugee camp. I search their faces – maybe Deng is among them.
‘Everyone on your feet!’ one of them shouts. ‘Now!’
I scramble up beside Thiko and the rebels herd us together. I don’t know what they want. I have nothing. The other villagers have only meagre possessions. I’m scared they’re looking for recruits, and that Chieng and I might be taken.
One weary villager, Majak, who lived on the eastern side of Pacong, has remained sitting with his head in his hands, ignoring the orders to stand.
‘You, get up!’ shouts a soldier, prodding him with his rifle. ‘Coward! Why are you running away like a woman? Why haven’t you joined the rebels to fight?’
Majak stares up at him with tired red eyes and says nothing. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, or why he doesn’t obey. It can only mean trouble.
For a moment the soldier looks like he’s about to walk away but then he turns, pulls out his knife and stabs Majak in the stomach. Majak has made no effort to defend himself and now he just lets go, as if that’s what he wanted all along.
Thiko covers her face with her hands. I stand as still as possible, not drawing attention to myself, just gazing at Majak lying there with blood pooling beneath him. His eyes are open and staring at nothing.
‘All of you, put out your possessions!’ his killer shouts.
I look over to see Koko and Bagic shaking in terror as the rebels search through the villagers’ bundles, dumping out the pitiful contents. They take any water bottles they see.
‘Where are all the good-looking girls?’ one rebel yells. ‘Who will bear our children for us if you all run away? Who will come after to keep fighting this war?’
Next to me Thiko trembles. I take her hand but she just keeps staring straight ahead.
A few yards from us a rebel rests his hand on the shoulder of a girl. She flinches at his touch. He smiles creepily when she does this and then he grabs her roughly and drags her away.
‘No!’ the girl’s mother screams, trying to hold onto her daughter. Another soldier brings the barrel of his rifle down on the woman’s back and she staggers, losing her grip. Tears stream down her face but she does not cry out again as she watches the soldier disappear with her daughter.
I have turned numb. How can we have made it so far and survived so much, and found our people, only for this to happen?
Someone is tugging at my arm. A soldier, grinning at me, showing his crooked yellow teeth.
‘You,’ he says. ‘Come with me.’
I try to yank my arm back. ‘No! I’m not a girl!’
He leers. ‘Then why are you wearing a skirt?’
‘Look, I’m a boy!’ I lift the skirt. ‘I didn’t have anything else to wear.’
The soldier laughs cruelly. ‘A boy in a skirt, eh?’ His leery gaze shifts to Thiko. ‘And what about this one? You, I can tell you’re a girl.’
‘I might be a girl but I’m not well,’ Thiko snaps. ‘I would make you ill. Very ill.’
I say a quick hard prayer that they will believe her. But even if they don’t, I will not let her go with them, no matter what.
Thiko pulls out her filthy handkerchief, caked with dirt and dried blood. She coughs into it violently and holds it up to the soldier’s face, shaking it at him. ‘Do you see? I will make you sick!’
The soldier looks uncertain for a second and then pushes her aside in disgust. I’m about to let out a sigh of relief when he wheels around and slaps her, sending her head flying backwards. ‘That doesn’t make me sick,’ he snarls.
‘Stop it!’ I yell, throwing myself between him and Thiko.
He grins his ugly grin again. ‘Ah, now the boy is trying to be a man. Too bad you’re failing miserably. Here’s your first lesson in manhood: men don’t wear skirts.’ He leans in close to me and I can smell his rotten breath. ‘But little baby girls do.’
His buddies roar as if he’s said the funniest thing ever. All that matters to me is that he’s walking away, he’s actually walking away and Thiko is safe.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask. She’s trembling, drenched in sweat. Already I can see swelling under her eye.
She says nothing. I follow her gaze to another young girl being dragged away.
‘I’m okay,’ Thiko says. ‘But those girls are not.’
From the bushes come cries, angry yelling, the sound of slapping. Now Ajak, a woman known in the village for brewing the best beer, pushes her way through the soldiers and shouts, ‘Leave them alone, you’re acting like animals!’
I look away, not wanting to see what will happen. I focus on two crested cranes dancing on an anthill in the distance.
But they don’t shoot Ajak. She reappears moments later carrying a crying girl. It’s not her daughter. Even though Ajak is married she never had children.
‘Shh,’ Ajak says, ‘you’re going to be alright. We’ll leave soon.’
Another of the rebels has been sizing me up and now he comes over.
‘You,’ he says, ‘why aren’t you a soldier? You’re old enough.’
I can’t think what to say. I don’t want them to take me away, like they maybe took Deng.
When I stay silent the rebel gives me a look. ‘So, you’re wondering why we’re doing this?’ he says.
I nod, too afraid to speak.
‘It’s because all this,’ he sweeps his arm around at the land, ‘is our home. It’s where we live. Our food, our clothes, our medicine, and yes, even our women, come from the civilians. People hate us for this, but we want to liberate our country. To do that, we have to survive, like everybody else.’
‘I understand,’ I say, although I don’t really. Then I summon the courage to ask, ‘Will we be able to go back to our village soon?’
‘Do you think you can fight if I give you a gun?’
I freeze again. Beside me Thiko says, ‘No, he’s a coward. He’s scared of fighting.’
The rebel says, ‘Let me ask you, do you like your village?’
‘I love my village. That’s where I first opened my eyes.’
‘Then if you love it so much, pick up an AK and fight for it. That’s the only way you’ll get it back.’
A whistle sounds, their signal to leave. The rebel straightens and looks at me again.
‘Be careful,’ he says. ‘The jungle is infested with government soldiers looking for runaways.’ He walks off with his laughing friends.
I watch him go, stunned. He doesn’t seem like the other rebels. I wonder why he gave me that advice. And why they’ve let me stay, Chieng too. Too late I realise that I should have asked him if he knew anything about Deng.
Our group continues on. It’s a wonder we have the strength to keep walking, but we do. We walk by day and hide at night, taking turns to carry the children. We are a sorry bunch, wounded and sore, bereaved, half starved. Some days we have nothing to eat but leaves. They are bitter and hard to chew and they stick in your throat like wood, but it’s something in our bellies. We don’t talk much now, we don’t have the energy for it, but at least Thiko and Chieng and I are among adults. We no longer bear sole responsibility for Koko and Bagic. This is a big relief.
When we approach a valley one afternoon my spirits lift, but as we get closer I see it is bare. The grass stands lifelessly under the relentless sun. The ground is hard and cracked beneath our feet.
One day we see more rebel soldiers in the distance, walking in our direction, and quickly we hide, urging the little ones to stay quiet. The soldiers stop not far from us and stand there talking. They study the ground.
‘People have been here just recently,’ I hear one of them say, and my stomach knots. Will they decide to trace our footprints?
The soldier who spoke leaves the group and walks our way. We hold our breath. But he stops suddenly, pulls his pan
ts down and squats. He farts like a pregnant pig. When he’s done relieving himself, he pulls up his pants and goes back to his group. They continue on their way.
A day later we come across a tangle of burnt-out jeeps.
‘The government soldiers must have fought the rebels here,’ a woman says.
Among the wreckage a tin of food is found. Someone else finds a water container. I’m hoping to find something useful too, but it’s not food or water I turn up, it’s one of our Pacong neighbours, who volunteered to fight alongside the rebels. He is lying there with his legs gone. His arms are thrown up over his head, like a dancer. It’s almost comical in its horror and suddenly I can’t stop giggling.
‘Why are you laughing?’ Thiko asks.
I show her. ‘It’s like he’s dancing,’ I say, between my laughter. ‘Except how can he, when he doesn’t have any legs?’
‘That’s not funny!’ she snaps. ‘Not funny at all!’ She steps away from me and I see a fearful look in her eyes. It’s not because of the dead man or the soldiers, it’s because of me. But I just can’t stop laughing, even though I want to. Thiko steps back in close and slaps my face hard and I stop.
‘You’re in shock,’ she says. ‘Come away from here now.’ And she pulls me after her.
Later I’m horrified that I laughed like that. Nothing could be less funny.
One night we wake to the sound of gunfire and screaming. Darkness hides whatever dreadful thing is upon us now, but soldiers are shooting at us, that much I know. They want more dead bodies. People are scrambling up and running away, tripping over each other. The dark is as thick as a curtain.
As usual I’ve been lying near Thiko, with Chieng not far from us, and now we’re all fleeing, unsure where we’re going. We wrestle through bushes and low trees, branches that scratch at our arms and legs. My lungs burn. It feels as though I can’t take in oxygen fast enough.
Thiko is snagged by a branch and I stop to help. Then she gives a shriek. ‘Something bit my arm!’
My eyes have adjusted enough to see a snake twisting its way up a branch. Thiko sinks to the ground, crying and holding her arm. I sit down and take her head in the crook of my arm, but only for a moment. I tear a strip off the bottom of her skirt that I’m wearing, which is already close to rags, and tie it firmly over her arm so the poison won’t spread as quickly. Chieng helps me massage the area where she was bitten, to try to squeeze the poison out.
After a minute or so he says, ‘Juba, we need to go. We can’t stay here. We’ll get left behind. We’ll be on our own again.’ The bushes around us are rustling with people running through.
‘Thiko,’ I say, ‘we have to get you up.’
‘I don’t know if I can,’ she wails.
‘You can,’ I say fiercely. ‘You can do anything as good as we can, remember?’
We help her up and put her good arm across my shoulder, but she struggles to stand. I try to get her onto my back but we both fall to the ground.
‘We can leave her here and go get help,’ Chieng suggests.
‘Help from where? We can’t leave her alone!’
‘No, Chieng is right,’ Thiko mumbles. Sweat runs down her face and her head lolls against me. ‘I’m slowing you down. Go ahead without me.’
‘I’ll find help.’ Chieng takes off without looking behind to see if I’m following.
‘Juba . . .’ Thiko says.
‘Shh,’ I say. ‘Don’t talk. Save your energy.’
‘You have to go.’
Voices are shouting not far off. I grip her shoulders and she raises her head. Her eyes glow. ‘Come on,’ I urge, ‘we need to go.’
‘You need to. We can’t both make it.’ A look of acceptance spreads over her face. ‘But you can.’
‘You just have to let me get you onto my back,’ I say. ‘Then I’ll carry you.’
‘No, we already tried. You have to run.’
I shut out visions of Pacong, and Grandpa telling me the same thing. The shouting is closer now. In the gloom I can make out a bright orange flicker. Then gunshots echo through the trees.
‘I’m not leaving you, Thiko. Chieng will find help.’ I’m not sure I really believe that last bit.
I wrap her arms around my neck and pick her up and manage to carry her into the cover of a thick bush. I get her settled and see that her arm has swelled alarmingly.
‘I’m tired,’ she says. ‘I want to sleep.’
‘No, Thiko, you must stay awake!’ I remember Grandpa saying that if you’re bitten by a snake and fall asleep you might never wake up again. I give Thiko a shake.
‘I’m so tired . . .’
‘It’s okay, Thiko,’ I say, gently slapping her face. ‘I’m here. You’re going to be okay. Don’t go to sleep now. Listen to my voice and stay awake. Stay here with me.’ And I start gabbling like a madman, saying anything that comes into my mind, anything to stop her falling asleep. She stays awake but continues to tremble. The gunfire stops at last and the moon has appeared from behind clouds, and as I talk I peer out into the night, hoping against hope that Chieng will return with someone who can help.
And then, just as I’m growing panicky, help comes. Not in the form of a person, but a tree. Only a few yards off. If finding Thiko after the attack on Pacong was a miracle, here is the second one. I don’t know the name of this tree but when my eyes land on it I recognise it. Grandpa once pointed out such a tree in our garden.
I immediately wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me, but I tell Thiko that I’m leaving her for a second.
‘I’m only going over there, just a little way. I’m not leaving for good, okay? I’ll be right over there and I’m going to get something that will help you. Did you hear me?’
‘Yes. Okay.’ I can barely hear her.
I crawl out from under the bush, hurry over to the tree and break off a dry branch and use it to dig out a piece from the roots. I split it back and peel off the inside part and bring it to Thiko. I help her sit up and her body is heavy against mine.
‘Thiko, I’m going to put something in your mouth and you have to chew it, okay? Chew it well and quickly. It will make you better.’
She opens her mouth and takes the piece of root but her jaw doesn’t seem to work. ‘I want to sleep,’ she says, the piece falling out of her mouth. Her eyes roll back in her head.
I slap her cheeks and shake her. ‘Thiko! You must stay awake.’ I grab the root and put it in my mouth, chewing it hard, squeezing the juice from it, then I open her mouth again and cover it with my own. I force the juice into her mouth and massage her throat and her head jerks to the side, but she’s swallowed some of it. I repeat the process, getting more juice into her. Her body goes rigid and after a few seconds she vomits a foamy substance.
I hold her by the shoulders. ‘It’s okay, Thiko, it’s good. You’re getting rid of the poison.’ I feel dizzy now, from chewing on the root. It would help if I could vomit myself, but I can’t. So I sit there and hold Thiko, who keeps vomiting.
We stay like that through the night. When the sun rises I see that her arm is twice its normal size. It looks very painful. But she’s alive. I have never seen a more beautiful sight.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask.
‘Tired. Can’t I sleep now?’
‘Yes. I think you’re past the danger point.’
I help her out from the bush and heap leaves under her as a mattress. She’s asleep when her head reaches the ground. I prop myself against the tree trunk next to her and doze off myself.
When we wake, the sun says it’s late afternoon. Chieng has not come back. We’re alone.
‘Can you walk?’ I ask.
‘I think so.’ She looks at her arm. The swelling has reduced. It’s just around the area that was bitten now.
I help her up. The joints in my knees crack and my back is sore. But we need to keep moving, even if we only cover a short distance before dark. We can’t let our group get any further ahead of us.
We ta
ke frequent breaks as we walk. Thiko is thirsty from all the vomiting, but the sun sets without us finding water. And without us seeing Chieng or any of the others. The only thing we come across is the carcass of an elephant. It lies with its face and tusks hacked off.
We shelter for the night in a large bush, nestling deep under the foliage for cover. A hyena barks nearby and another answers.
Thiko shudders. ‘They’re close.’
‘They are. I’ll try to light a fire to keep them off. You stay here.’
I scramble out from the bush, find dry wood and grass and make a firestick. I have to rub for a long time before there’s a spark, then longer until a small flame shoots up. I hold it to my little pile of dry grass and twigs and it licks hungrily. Soon there’s a warm glow and I pile on wood. There’s no sound now from the hyenas.
I call Thiko and she comes to sit by the fire with me. It’s so soothing to be near a fire and I start to feel sleepy. Then I see something flickering in the distance.
‘What’s that?’ I point at the tiny lights and Thiko squints.
‘Fireflies?’
‘That’s what I thought, but I’m not sure.’
‘Juba, it could be those soldiers again!’
We strain our ears for any sound of shouting men but can hear nothing.
‘I’m going to see what it is,’ I say. ‘I won’t sleep if I think it’s soldiers, and if it is, they’ll have seen our fire. You wait here.’
‘Oh no, I’m coming with you,’ she says, getting to her feet.
‘Thiko, you’re still weak. You should stay here. I’ll keep out of sight and come back for you.’
‘Don’t argue with me, you won’t win. I’m coming.’
I sigh. I know she’s right.
So I take her hand and we keep low as we move towards the lights. As we get closer they become flames. So it is a fire. We creep forward a little more and then I pull Thiko into a bush and we peer out. There are people warming themselves around the fire. They don’t look like soldiers. We take a few more steps and a twig snaps loudly. The people round the fire turn and look our way, eyes filled with fear.