such children were encouraged to hand them over to the camp elders. They were gathered together under a big tree where they were divided into two groups. The boys, who were in the majority (there were about three thousand of them), were taken to a spot about five minutes’ walk from the camp. The five hundred or so girls (the ones that had not been integrated into the community) were accommodated in the centre of the existing camp.
I was lucky. I did not have to join the other boys as I still had my uncle.
Chapter 4
How was I to know that a military training centre had been established in Ethiopia by the southern Sudanese government? How was I to know that the Sudanese People’s Liberation Army had embarked on a campaign to mobilise all able-bodied men? Sudan needed them, the SPLA soldiers said, and it was every man’s duty to carry on the struggle. When they had fled to suffer on Ethiopian soil, it had not ended their duty to the fatherland.
Uncle Atem resisted the call to arms, but one day he, with hundreds of other men, simply disappeared. I was unaware of what had happened as my cousins and friends took care of me as they had always done in his absence. “He will be back in the evening,” they assured me. But he was not.
Some days later Yaac told me, “Uncle Atem has gone to the military training camp to collect a gun so that he can go back home and look for your mama and papa. Don’t be scared. He has left you in my care till he comes back for you.”
Yaac did take good care of me – for a month – but so many children had now been abandoned by men returning to war that new arrangements had to be made. A large number of boys like me were gathered together and a second group was formed – the “minors” – consisting of boys between the ages of three and ten.
I had always been a valued member of my uncle’s small family, but now I found myself in a herd of young children, feeling utterly forlorn. In fact, there were so many of us that as we were lined up for the walk to the place that would become the minors’ camp I couldn’t see the beginning or the end of the two lines we formed. The whole place was filled with the noise of children: some were crying; others were arguing with the elders. It was a five-minute walk from the main camp to the new minors’ compound, but the trip took us several hours.
As soon as we had reached the place, an elder said, “Boys, I want you to sit down in groups of ten. We’ve got something for you to eat.”
We could see that there was food – it was in a drum that had been cut in half – but groups of ten? It created great confusion. We couldn’t count to ten! Some started crying, struggling to understand. In the end, the men who had accompanied us to our new camp divided us into groups themselves. It then became clear that all of this was part of a strategy to keep us from rushing to help ourselves from the drum. They tore empty sacks into pieces and spread them on the ground. Then ten boys were plucked from the line and told to sit around each piece, which was to serve as a kind of communal plate.
Some boys were unable to eat, although they were hungry. Some were greedy and pushed others away from the food they were supposed to share. The polite boys gaped in astonishment at the manners of the aggressive ones. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough food to satisfy all of us, but the elders did see to it that the youngest and the weakest received their share.
Next came our sleeping arrangements. A sprinkling of enterprising guys had made themselves shorts and shirts from old sacks during their time in the camp, but most of us had nothing at all to wear and no bedclothes. Our minders told us to clear a space before nightfall and to dig hollows to serve as beds. We had nothing sharp to cut the long grass with, so the adults – who had been struggling with us all day – had to break the coarse grass with their hands to clear an area large enough to accommodate all the children.
When darkness caught us, some boys gathered to warm themselves by a huge fire our minders had built, while others were staking out their beds. I cried myself to sleep in the hollow I had scratched out of the hard ground. I was feeling very, very lonely. I didn’t know any of the boys I was with, and even though some of them spoke Dinka, like me, their accents were strange to my ear. It was clear, however, that they were as troubled and as restless as I was. In one corner, a child woke up and called for his mother. Another, dreaming, jumped up and ran right over the sleeping bodies of the boys around him. One of our minders appeared and comforted the boy who had cried for his mother, but the rest of us had no one to cling to.
When dawn came there was nothing we could do but resume the task of clearing the bush.
At breakfast time we were instructed to line up. It was pandemonium! Each boy fought for his share of the grain. Strong boys pushed into the line ahead of weaker ones. Those at the head of the queue beat away the hands of the others as they grabbed for food. Some, who had managed to snatch a handful, scurried off, pursued by boys intent on robbing them.
That is how we fought for survival. No one cared about anyone else. How much you got was up to you. We no longer thought of our mothers. There was nothing on our minds but food.
The elders might have made our lives easier in this hostile environment had they enforced some basic rules. Instead, they gave us free rein – at least, initially. There was no adequate container for water, so as soon as the fight for food was over we would start the long trip down to the river. We were forced to. Only the very youngest and weakest of the children received water in the camp. The bigger boys were allowed to stay at the river until nightfall, when it was time to clean the compound. Those who were strong enough would manage to get hold of some kwin (phutu) for supper before bedtime. The rest went to bed on an empty stomach, waiting for morning when there would be some more porridge for breakfast.
Maize was now delivered every week and several venturesome individuals managed to secure the sacks it came in. These were used as blankets, or plates to eat from. The sacks were carefully watched, as an inattentive owner would soon find his gone. Relief workers brought jerry cans to store water in, but we still had no eating utensils.
An increasing number of adults and older boys were finding their way to the military training centre. There were rumours that my cousin Yaac’s entire unit was among them. I never saw him again.
The boys now had to take over many tasks from their elders. Teams would be selected each morning to go down to the river to fetch water for cooking and to watch over the young children, who were not allowed to leave the camp unescorted. The strongest, most active boys were made leaders. They would see to it that the others did their chores, and would organise the trips down to the river every morning and afternoon. Lingering on the bank was now forbidden. The leaders were also in charge of hygiene and the demarcation of areas to be used as latrines. The few remaining adults guarded the sickbay and the food distribution area, to prevent sick boys from being robbed of their food.
There was no shelter yet, not a single thatched roof, and it was decided that building a structure was to be our next task. We were handed sickles and sharpened pieces of wood, and instructed to cut the tall grass near the camp. We brought back plenty. Next we were sent to hunt for bush-ropes. The elders, however, soon realised that this job was too demanding for some of the children and announced that the time had come to specialise. The younger boys were assigned the task of lugging water and cleaning the camp. The bigger boys – the ten- to fourteen-year-olds – scoured the forest for ropes. The littlest ones remained under the trees until the workers returned and it was time to eat the maize or sorghum porridge the cooks had prepared.
Our diet never varied. It consisted of maize and sorghum. The aroma and taste never changed either. Diesel. The smell of diesel from the big machine that the cooks used for grinding the maize was present, faintly, in every mouthful.
Before long, we had enough ropes to add to our
