on his other side. “That will leave one soldier to come with the last group at the end of the day.”
The owner gave a low growl but said nothing.
Ayuel felt pleasure in the crossing, dangling his hand in the swift-moving water. Emotionally he was sailing into a bright future, where life might again be normal. He remembered that Officer Chol had said everyone could even go to school. Akon followed his lead and trailed her hand in the water too.
“Look over there, Ayuelo. Aren’t those crocodiles?” Ayuel could see the heads skimming above the surface near the bank. Akon’s voice sounded frightened.
“But, we are moving away from them, Akon. I don’t think we have to worry.” He knew she had to be thinking what he was. “Those crocodiles in the oasis pool probably attacked because they thought we were going after them. The river is big and they should have lots of fish to eat.”
She smiled and seemed satisfied.
When they landed, Ayuel and his friends went scrounging for food, as they had eaten nothing since the maize the previous morning. The river ran too swift for fishing. With no village on the Ethiopian side, they resorted once again to leaves and grass. Officer Chol told them not to go far as they would head toward the refugee camp as soon as all got across.
Toward the evening, they sat along the bank watching the boats.
“This should be the last crossing,” Officer Chol said. “I don’t see anyone on the other shore. That was quick.” He shaded his eyes, looking out over the river toward the setting sun. As he walked along the bank, encouraging the children, he told them: “Our lives will all be better soon—food, schools and hospitals.”
As the last boats neared the middle of the river, Ayuel said to Donayok, “I think they are overloaded again.”
“The sun’s in my eyes, so I can’t count the people. But the boat on the left looks tilted and very low in the water,” said the fourteen-year-old. “I’m going to tell Officer Chol.” He walked in the direction of the officer, still keeping an eye on the river.
Ayuel thought the boats seemed much farther apart than usual and moved more slowly. The soldier weighted down the corner of the boat on the left. As they all stood watching, it suddenly tipped and sank, spilling its occupants into the swirling waters. After only a few shouts for help, most of the passengers went under. Some of the boys and the soldier fought the swift river in an attempt to swim, but one by one, they too went under. All were lost.
As the people on the bank stood in shock, not believing their eyes, the other boat pulled in. “Did you see that?” a boy cried as he got out and pointed to the boat that had resurfaced upside down. “My brother was on it! My brother and my sister! They crammed fifteen people in that one. Fourteen in ours.” He began to wail as did others.
“Where’s the owner?” shouted Officer Chol, anger in his voice.
“They both deserted us as soon as they packed us in,” said one of the older boys. “Neither one of the men got in the boats.”
“They ran,” said another. “Since we were already in, and there was no room for them anyhow, we took off. I had the paddle. They made us all get on. He said they weren’t going to make any more free crossings.”
Officer Chol cursed. Then sat down and cried.
Ayuel’s heart sank. His future now seemed no brighter than what they’d experienced the past two and a half months. Some of his cousins had just been sucked into the churning river and drowned before his eyes. He went over and stood by Akon.
“Those crocodiles,” she whispered.
Ayuel shuddered as he shared her thought. For a long time they stared at the river, until the overturned boat and a few scattered bodies floated out of sight.
Two days after crossing the Gilo, Ayuel and his group heard a faint rumbling in the distance, but with the constant tramping of feet around them, it was difficult to identify. As they listened intently, the rumbling became more like low bellowing.
“Sounds like a cattle camp up ahead,” Madau said. “The cows are refusing to move on.”
“We could all use some milk,” Donayok said, who was carrying Chuei on his back. “Especially this one.”
“Hey, Chuei,” Ayuel said, taking his cousin’s limp hand. “I’ll get milk for you in my calabash.” Ayuel ached inside to see the former jokester breathing so hard through his mouth and staring back at him with large sunken eyes. He doesn’t look so good.
Ayuel watched as the crowd up front crested a knoll, picked up speed and dropped out of sight on the other side. The moaning of cattle grew louder. They will take all the milk before we get there.
Malual Kuer ran ahead to the knoll and shouted back to his friends, “Those are people! Not cows. Thousands of them, even more than us. We’re here! We’re at the Ethiopian camp!”
The group picked up their pace to get a glimpse of the camp—their reward for months of misery.
“We made it!” shouted Gutthier.
Similar shouts echoed throughout the throng.
“None of our group died,” Akon said as she caught up with Ayuel and flashed him a weak smile.
An emotion of victory flooded over Ayuel—like winning a very long race. “None of us ever gave up, did we, Akon? God was with us!” he said shaking a small fist in the air as others were doing.
The seventeen bunched closer to one another, wishing to enter the camp together. Visions of everything Officer Chol had promised swirled in Ayuel’s head.
“I don’t see any tents,” Malual said. “I heard my father say one time that refugee camps have tents—and hospitals and schools.” He slowed down a bit as if resisting what might lie ahead.
Indeed, when they merged with the milling thousands, no one met them with food, water or clean clothing. Nothing. A huge soggy and sandy field stretched as far as the eye could see. They noticed a few adults here, mostly women with listless babies in their arms and toddlers clinging to their skirts. Children stood with blank expressions or groaned and sobbed. At their feet lay the dead and dying. Flies moved like a living blanket over the corpses and buzzed in the hot and humid morning air. Mosquitoes rose from muddy puddles and spread stings over the exposed flesh of the new arrivals, leaving beads of blood. The stink is the worst of the whole trip, thought Ayuel, as he dipped his calabash into a shallow pool of water. “I guess it rained here last night,” he said.
Donayok sat Chuei down on a patch of trampled grass. Ayuel held the calabash to Chuei’s lips. He took one sip, then shook his head. “Maybe some more later,” Ayuel said. Then he drank the rest himself.
Ayuel woke early the next morning pressed between Gutthier and Malual Kuer. The group had made a small clump of thorn bushes their “home.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then the hard ball of his stomach and the sagging flesh on his boney arms. He looked at his very closest friend, Malual, and thought he was
