by Dave Eggers
—Which way did you run? William K asked.
I pointed the way I had just come. William K had run the opposite way but had stopped after a short time, hiding in the roots of a baobab tree.
—Did you hear what happened? What the rumbling was, the lights? he asked. I shook my head.
—It was us. It was nothing.
There had been no attack in the night. There were no guns, no shots. It was only a Land Rover driving through the night. No one knew whose car it was, but it was not an enemy’s. It might have even been an aid truck.
When Dut arrived, later in the morning, and gathered us, he was exasperated.
—You can’t simply run every which way at every sound in the night. We were all too confused to argue.
—We lost twelve boys last night. We know three are dead because they fell in those two wells. Too many boys have fallen into wells. This is a bad way to die, boys. The others have run to God knows where.
I agreed falling into a well was a bad way to die, but I was sure that it had been his deputy, Kur, who had sent us fleeing during the night. But at that point nothing was clear. After an hour away from the round-bellied man and his bicycle, I was no longer sure if he himself had been real. I told no one about him.
The food I had eaten gave me strength, as had the secret of the round-bellied man, and yet I was relatively certain that I was dying. The cut on my leg, the bite the barbed wire had ripped from my shin, was very large, a diagonal slash from my knee to the bottom of my calf. It bled slowly all day, and even William K acknowledged this could mean that I would die. In our experience, most boys who had large wounds eventually died. The boys that day and in the coming days did not like to stay close to me, because they saw my wound and guessed that disease had already taken root and was festering within me.
William K knew I was worried and he attempted to assuage my fears.
—In Ethiopia they’ll cure that wound quickly. The doctors there are the best. You’ll look down at your leg and you’ll say, What happened? Wasn’t there a wound there? But it’ll be gone. They’ll erase it.
I smiled, though looking at William K caused me concern. He looked very ill, and he was my only mirror. We could not see ourselves so I relied on the appearance of the other boys, William K in particular, to know something of my own health. We ate the same food and were built in a similar way, so I watched him to see how thin I had become, how my eyes were growing more sunken. On this day I did not look good.
—They actually don’t get sick in Ethiopia, William continued,—because the water and air are different there. It’s weird, but it’s true. People don’t get sick, unless they’re very stupid. And those people get help from the doctors anyway. The doctors say, You’re so stupid to get sick in a place where no one gets sick! But I’ll cure you anyway because this is Ethiopia and that’s how things are here. I heard this from Dut the other night. You were asleep.
William was a hopeless liar, but it pleased me.
—Can we rest a second? he asked.
I was glad to stop for a moment. Usually we could sit long enough that we felt better, while keeping the line of the group within sight. After a few minutes, watching the other boys shuffle past, William and I were stronger and began again.
—I feel different today, he said.—Dizzier, I think.
My bones shook with each step and there was an odd tingling in my left leg, a shooting bolt of cold every time my heel touched the ground. But he made me feel good and so I allowed him to talk, about my wound and Ethiopia and also about how strong he would be when he grew older. It was one of his favorite subjects, and he talked about it in great detail and scientific precision.
—I’ll be a very big man. My father is not so tall, but my brothers are very tall so I’ll be like them, but taller. I’ll probably be one of the tallest men ever in Sudan. It’ll just be this way. I’ll have no choice. And so I’ll be a great warrior, and I’ll hold many guns at once, and I’ll also drive a tank. People’s eyes’ will pop out of their heads when they see me. My mom will be proud when we’re all there, back at home, to stand guard against the Baggara. It’ll be easy to defend the area when we have some guns. My brother Jor is a huge man. He already has two wives and he’s still very young so he’ll have more wives when he has more cattle but he will have more cattle because he’s very smart and knows cattle and breeding—
I had been walking with my head down, following William’s footsteps and listening to his words, and so it was not immediately that I noticed that all the boys were running off the path and into the trees. I looked left and right and everywhere they were running into the trees and climbing. Those who could climb climbed. Those who were too weak stayed below the trees, hoping that something would drop to them.
The trees were full of birds.
I ran to an empty tree and climbed it, finding that the climbing took far longer than it once did. William K ran to the tree, too, and now was under me.
—I can’t climb, he said.—Not today, I don’t think.
—I’ll drop them to you, I said.
In the middle of the tree I found a nest and in it, three small eggs. I didn’t wait. I ate two of the eggs while still in the tree. I ate everything, the shell, the feathers inside, I ate it all before I could think. I ate another and finally remembered William K. below me. I jumped down and found William K lying on his side, his eyes closed.
—Wake up! I said. He opened his eyes.
—I got so dizzy after the running, he said.—Tell me not to run next time.
—You shouldn’t run next time.
—No, no. Please don’t joke, Achak. I’m so tired.
—Eat an egg. They taste terrible.
Other boys had found nests full of baby birds, and they ate them, after pulling off the feathers that had already formed. They too ate the birds whole, their heads and feet and bones. Kur was spitting out a beak when I saw another tree, unexplored.
—I’ll get you one. Stay here, I said to William, and I felt stronger already. I ran to the next tree and once up in its boughs, feasting on another egg, I heard the chopping. It was the chopping and dividing sound of a helicopter. In seconds we were out of the branches and on the ground, running wildly. But there was nowhere to run. There were only the low trees we were in, whose branches were nearly bare and offered no cover, and elsewhere only the desert. Some boys stayed where they were; in some trees there were ten boys hidden. We held onto the branches, spread ourselves against the bark to seem part of it, held it with our arms and faces pressed against its rough surface. The chopping came closer and the helicopters, three of them, came into view, black and low to the ground. The machines split the air and raged over our trees but the helicopters did not fire.
Soon the chopping grew quieter and the helicopters were gone.
This was, to Dut and to all of us, more confusing than the bombing from the Antonovs. Why come so close and see so many targets and not fire at all? We never could understand the philosophy of the Sudanese army. Sometimes we were worth their bullets and bombs, and other times we were not.
Dut decided again that we should walk at night. At night there were no helicopters, so that night we did not rest. Dut felt that we were strong enough, since we had eaten so well from the eggs and birds. And so we walked that night, all night, and the next day we would sleep until the night came again.
—There is more news about Ethiopia, William K began.
—Please, I said.
—Yes, the rumor is that there, the Sudanese are very wealthy. Our people are respected by all, and we are given everything we want. Every Dinka becomes a chief. This is what they say. So we’ll all be chiefs, and we get to have what we want. We each have ten people who help us in the ways we need. If we want food, we say ‘Give me this food’ or ‘Give me that food’ and then they have to run and get it. It’s not that hard, because there is food everywhere. But they especially worship people like us. I think it matters how far you’ve come. Because we
have come the farthest, we get to choose where we live and we get more servants. We get twenty of them each.
—You said it was ten.
—Yes, it’s ten usually. But for us there are twenty, because we’ve come from so far. I just told you this, Achak. Please listen. You’ll need to know these things or else you’ll insult the people in Ethiopia. I’m only sad that Moses won’t see this with us.
Or maybe he will. Maybe Moses is already there. I bet he’s already there. He found a way there and he’s waiting for us there, that lucky boy.
As much as I could accept some of what William K said, I knew that Moses was not in Ethiopia and never would be. He was chased down by the man on horseback and his fate was certain.
—Yes, William K continued,—Moses is already getting all the things we’ll be getting, and he’s laughing at us. What’s taking you guys so long? he’s saying. We better hurry, right, Achak?
William K did not sound good. I was glad that it was night and that I didn’t have to look into William K’s sunken eyes, his bloated stomach. I knew I looked this way, too, and so it was doubly troubling to see William and see myself in William. In the black night of the desert we saw no suffering and the air was cooler.
—Look at this, William K said, grabbing my arm.
In the distance, the horizon rose up and drew a jagged line across the sky. I had never seen a mountain range before but there it was. William K was sure that we were upon our destination.
—That is Ethiopia! he whispered.—I didn’t expect it so soon.
William K and I were far back in the line and could not ask Dut or Kur where we were. But William’s explanation made sense. Before us was a great black silhouette, far bigger than any landmass we had seen before. It could contain as many elephants as walked the earth. William K now walked with his arm around my shoulder.
—When we reach that mountain we’re in Ethiopia, he said. I could not disagree.—I think you’re right.
—This was not so bad, Achak. This was not so much to walk to reach Ethiopia. Do you think? Now that we are so close, it was not so bad, was it?
We were close but all was getting worse. We did not reach Ethiopia that day, and we did not reach Ethiopia the next. We slept all times of day and night, because now we were barely walking; our feet were leaden, our arms feeling disconnected. The wound on my leg was infected and I had no friends but William K. No one else wanted to be near me, especially after the vulture. After an early-morning nap I had woken up to a shadow blocking my vision, blocking out the sun. I first thought I was in trouble with Dut, that I had overslept and was about to be kicked awake. But then the figure raised his arms suddenly and turned its head, and I knew it to be a vulture. It hopped onto my good leg and began inspecting my bad leg. I leapt back and the vulture squawked and jumped forward again, toward me. He had no fear of me.
This became a problem for all the boys. If we stayed in one place too long, the vultures would become more interested. Sleeping for more than an hour in the sun was sure to bring carrion birds, and we had to be vigilant, lest the birds begin to feast while we were alive.
It was this day, after I chased off the bird who wanted to eat me, that William K began to look different. There were marks on his face, circular designs in a lighter tone than his skin. He complained of cramps and dizziness but then again, I also had cramps and dizziness. William K continued to talk and because he continued to talk I figured he was as strong as any of us.
—Look, William K said.
I followed William K’s finger to a dark lump ahead of us. A vulture flew away from it as they approached. It was the body of a boy, a bit older than us.
—Dumb, said William K.
I told him not to talk about the dead in this way.
—But it is dumb! To come so far and to die here.
Now there were bodies all along the trails. Boys, babies, women, men. Every mile we would see bodies, of boys and men, under trees, just off the path. Soon the bodies were wearing SPLA uniforms.
—How can a soldier die like this? William K asked Dut.
—He was not wise about his water, Dut said.
—How close are we, Dut?
—We’re getting there. We’re close to being close.
—Good, good. The word close is a good word.
We walked that day, through the most desolate land we’d crossed yet, and the heat grew in surges. Before noon the air was like something with skin or hair. The sun was our enemy. But all the while, my own dreams of the splendor of Ethiopia increased in vividness and detail. In Ethiopia I would have my own bed, like the bed the chief of Marial Bai had, stuffed with straw and with a blanket made from the skin of a gazelle. In Ethiopia there would be hospitals and markets where all foods were sold. Lemon candies! We would be nursed back to our former weights, and wouldn’t have to walk each day; on some days we would not have to do anything at all. Chairs!
We would have chairs in Ethiopia. I would sit on a chair, and I would listen to the radio, because in Ethiopia there would be radios under all the trees. Milk and eggs—there would be plenty of these foods, and plenty of meat, and nuts and stew. There would be clean water where we could bathe, and there would be wells for each home, each full of cool water to drink. Such cool water! We would have to wait before drinking it, because of its coolness. I would have a new family in Ethiopia, with a mother and father who would bring me close and call me son.
Up ahead we saw a group of men sitting under the shade of a small heglig tree. There were eleven men, sitting in two circles, one within the other. As we got closer, we saw that two of the three men were very ill. One appeared to be dead.
—Is he dead? William K asked.
The man closest to William K lunged at him, hitting him in the chest with the back of his large bony hand.
—You will be too unless you keep walking!
The man’s yellowed eyes shook with rage. The other soldiers ignored us.
—What happened to him? William K asked.
—Go away, mumbled the soldier. William persisted.—Was he shot?
The man glared at him.—Show some respect, you ungrateful bug! We’re fighting for you!
—I am grateful, William K protested. The man snorted.
—Please believe me, William K said.
The man softened, and after a moment, believed that William was sincere.
—Where are you from, Red Army? he asked.
—Marial Bai.
The man’s face relaxed.
—I’m from Chak Chak! What’s your name?
—William Kenyang.
—Aha, I thought I would know your clan. I know Thiit Kenyang Kon, who must be your uncle.
—He is my uncle. Have you seen him?
—No, no. I wish I had news for you, but I’ve been gone longer than you. You’re not far now. A few days more and you’re in Ethiopia. We just came from there.
We sat with the soldiers for some time, and some of the boys were cheered by seeing them, but their presence was troubling. The men had guns and were part of a unit called The Fist, which to me sounded very capable. But then, the men of The Fist were starving, dying. What kind of place were we going to, if grown men with guns had left there and were starving on their way back to Sudan?
The dead soldier disturbed me more than any death of any boy along the way, and when my belief in our journey wavered my steps became reluctant and slow.
In the mirror of William K, I did not look well that day. My cheeks were sunken, my eyes ringed in blue. My tongue was white, my hipbones were visible through my shorts. My throat felt lined with wood and grass. Attempting to swallow caused enormous pain. Boys were walking with their hands on their throats, trying to massage moisture into them. I was quiet and we continued to walk. The afternoon was a very slow one. We could not walk at a pace near to what we had when the walk began. We were covering so little ground. This day, William K asked to stop frequently.
—Just to stop and stand for a moment, h
e said.
And we would stop and William would lean on me, resting his hand on my shoulder. He would take three breaths and say he was ready again. We did not want to fall behind.
—I feel so heavy, Achak. Do you feel heavy this way?
—I do. I do, William. Everyone does.
The afternoon cooled and the air was easier to breathe. Word came down the line that someone had found the carcass of a dik-dik. They had chased away the vultures and they were trying to find some edible meat on the bones of the animal.
—I need to rest again, William K whispered.—We should sit for a while. I did not agree that we should sit, but William K was already making his way to a tree, and soon was sitting beneath it, his head against the trunk.
—We need to walk, I said.
William K closed his eyes.—We need to rest. Rest with me, Achak.
—They’ve found a dik-dik.
—That sounds good.
He looked up to me and smiled.
—We need to get some of the meat. It’ll be gone in seconds, William.
I watched as William K’s eyes flickered, his eyelids closing slowly.
—Soon, he said.—But sit for a second. This is helping me. Please. I stood above him, giving him shade, allowing him a few moments of peace, and then said it was time to go.
—It’s not time, he said.
—The meat will be gone.
—You get some. Can you get some and bring it back to me? God forgive me, I thought this was a good idea.
—I’ll come back, I said.
—Good, he said.
—Keep your eyes open, I said.
—Okay, he said. He looked up to me and nodded.—I need this. I feel like this is helping me.
His eyes slowly closed and I ran to get our share of the animal. While I was gone, the life in William K fell away and his flesh returned to the earth.
It was easier to die now. With Deng, there had been a night between the living Deng and the departed Deng. I had assumed that dying always took place over those many hours in the dark. But William K had done something different. He only stopped walking, sat under a tree, closed his eyes, and was gone. I had returned with a finger’s worth of meat to share with him and found his body already cold.