their homes behind you. With our guns, we will try to protect you from the Arabs.
“You are right to travel east, but you are too far north to reach the refugee camps in Ethiopia. I will lead you through the bush. There will be water soon. And probably some wild fruit. We will shoot any animals we find, and the different groups can cook them.” His voice was gentle and kind.
“Why would they bomb us for oil?” whispered Gutthier. “I never saw any oil in Duk.”
“My mother uses oil when she cooks the maize.” Chuei grinned and put his hand over his mouth. It sounded like a mock confession, as if her cooking had caused all the misery.
Ayuel laughed and pushed his cousin. The old Chuei was back with his funny sayings, but Chuei suddenly turned angry and pulled away. He dropped his face into his hands and sobbed.
In the bush they found water and berries. The group of seventeen cooked a small antelope—shot by the soldiers—over a fire. In their cooking pot, they boiled roots and leaves, which together with the meat made a real feast. There was enough to satisfy all seventeen with leftovers for another meal.
As they sat licking their fingers, Ayuel said, “Officer Chol is very smart. I think he speaks the truth. Do you think Ethiopia is on the other side of this forest?”
“Nah, but I think we will be there in two or three days,” Malual Kuer said as he sucked on a bone. “Then we will have milk to drink, bread and maize to eat, chicken and rice. Maybe mangoes.”
The sun became hot. Ayuel lay down next to his friends in the shade, his heart full of hope and a better kind of hurt in his stomach. Wrapped in a newfound security, he fell into deep slumber, muttering, “Abba Father, I am thankful…”
Ethiopia was not on the other side of the forest, nor two or three days away. Nothing but barren land stretched for miles and miles. After another two weeks, there was no food of any kind. Nor water.
Officer Chol called the assembly together using his microphone—the name the boys had learned for the talking stick. “My brothers and sisters, you are brave and courageous. You must never give up. You can and will survive anything. Anything, trust me. When we come to trees or bushes, pick and eat the leaves. Carry leaves and bark with you to eat later, for, as you can see, this is desert land with very few plants.
“We are just now leaving the larger region of Bor to start a long journey east. It is not a short distance to Ethiopia. It will take us two, maybe three months to get there. You will be safe in Ethiopia, and there will be enough to eat for everyone. Be strong.”
But Ayuel was not strong. Madau, his cousin, and Malual Kuer, made him walk between them, his arms across their shoulders for support. His knees refused to stay straight to support him, and the heat made him dizzy. Ayuel felt ashamed of his weakness, but he would not give up. He knew Madau and Malual were using up their energy to help him.
When they came to some scraggly plants, his friends picked leaves for him. No one knew if they were poisonous or not. Who could tell by moonlight? But they needed to eat. So they nibbled the half-dried leaves that stuck to the inside of their mouths. The strong taste was unpleasant and lingered a long time.
“We need leaves with moisture in them,” Donayok, their fourteen-year-old leader, said. He squatted down beside the younger ones, sniffed the dry leaves and pitched them away.
No one answered him. Of course they needed moisture.
Toward morning, as they walked, the ground was not so dry. Tall grass came up to the boys’ knees. Here and there grew a few green vines. Ayuel’s friends laid him down gently in the dry grass. He could hear his own breathing rattle in his chest. He closed his eyes and rested.
“Here, chew on this,” said Malual, who sat beside him and offered the leaves from the vines. They weren’t dry, but they could be poisonous. Ayuel chewed slowly, drifting in and out of sleep.
“Madau and Gutthier have gone to find more leaves—and water might not be too far…”
Malual’s voice faded away and Ayuel slept.
By noon, the sun was too hot to lie out in the open to sleep, so they continued the journey. Ayuel felt a little better and could walk by placing his hands on his friends shoulders.
When evening came they discovered a jungle up ahead. They ate some of the lush leaves and drank from puddles of swamp water. The long, thick vines that hung from the trees were scary in the dim twilight. Ayuel thought some might be snakes, from the way they moved.
The screeching of hawks warned of danger. There were also sounds that the boys did not recognize—strange bird and animal calls. The seventeen held hands as they wove their way single file through the tangled mass of tall grass vines and sharp rocks on the ground.
Ayuel had trouble keeping his mutkukalei on his feet, but he was glad he’d brought them. Some of the others muffled cries of pain from stepping barefoot on the rocks.
All light quickly faded in the thick jungle but the crowd kept tramping—thousands of feet marching through the undergrowth. Ayuel felt pursued by the beat, even though he was part of it.
A low growl not too far away stopped the children. They stood silently listening. Ayuel’s heart pounded in his throat. He dared not even breathe deeply. The growl came again, louder, more like a roar. The seventeen stood frozen in total darkness. Only far away the rustling of marchers continued.
Another loud roar. Angry now.
A pause. Then the shrill cry of children: “Oh, eeyo, oh, ee-yo, no-oh!” More low growls. Crunching sounds. Then silence.
The group sat huddled together in the grass for a long time, not risking talk.
In the distance, they could hear the howling of different animals, like dogs, only more terrible.
“Hyenas,” whispered Donayok.
The howls became louder—and closer. Again screams of children. Snarls. Thrashing about. Screams. More snarls. Quiet.
Ayuel and his friends shivered in the darkness, startled by every bird screech and every rustle in the grass. With thousands of people crouched in the jungle, no one could be sure if movements were by human or beast. They dared not close their eyes—though it was impossible to see anything. Squatted close together, terrified, they waited through the long night, hoping to be alive in the morning.
“Ayuelo, get up.” Gutthier, his half-brother, was gently shaking his arm and whispering in his ear. Pale light filtered through the trees, and waking birds chirped innocently. Ayuel could hear voices over where the terrible night noises had come from.
“What? What?” Ayuel said too loudly. He had fallen asleep on Gutthier’s shoulder for a few minutes just before dawn. Startled, he felt sick and vomited the green leaves he’d eaten the evening before. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s go see.”
The
