We heard that soldiers had set fire to many huts in villages further down the valley. They killed all the young men and teenage boys. The stories of what they did to the women and girls are too horrific to even think about. So my father, mother, little brother and I are going to leave and go into the hills and hide. Being a girl, and being fourteen means I am in great danger and my mother is very afraid for my safety. She said it is better to die than to be taken by the soldiers, but it is better to live than to die. Am I scared? I cannot tell you how much. I can barely think.
We don't have much - no one in our village does. We have a few animals, and pots and pans, and clothes, but we cannot take our animals with us; it is impossible to hide five cows and twenty chickens. My father is so upset he cannot speak. He hides his tears but I imagine he feels ashamed he cannot fight the soldiers and stay in our village. He is a proud man, but he doesn't want to die. Not like this. Mother told me I could choose one thing to take with me. So I decided to take my storybook. It is full of children's stories written in English, and although I can only read some of the words, to me it represents much more than words. It is my future. I want to be a teacher of English, wearing a crisp white blouse in a clean classroom, with the smiling faces of my students in front of me. Am I crazy to have such a dream? No! I know this is my future. I can feel it. It is real. I wrap the old book in a piece of cotton and put the bundle on the floor by the fire, ready to take with me.
The village elders called a meeting earlier, and decided that everyone should travel in different directions into the hills. My father said we live about eigthy kilometres from the border and someone else said there is a refugee camp there, run by the UN where we can be safe. I hope so. I really hope so. Perhaps if we reach the camp, I can go to school. I want to finish my book. I want to know every word in it. And I want to know new words, every word in the world! And when I am a teacher in a big city I will buy my father and mother a clean house with electricity and running water. But for the moment we must run and hide.
'Ama! It is time to go. Come
on, we're leaving.' My father shouts from outside our home.
'I'm coming.' I run outside and join my family.
It is late afternoon and the temperature is dropping fast. We
start our walk up the valley to the hills and the border. After
twenty minutes I remember something important. I stop
walking and say, 'Wait! I must go back. I
forgot my storybook.'
'Ama. No! Don't be stupid. We can't go back now. the soldiers could
come any time.' my father tells me.