What the war stripped me of

What the war stripped me of

My name is Awut Malual. I am 12 years old and I live with my family. I have a 6 year old brother named Akol. I have dark hair, dark eyes, & dark skin. Life was tough because water was scarce and the heat was intense. Sometimes there was not enough food. When food ran out, we would play to pass the time. My parents and I would give the last bites to me and my brother. Although, my stomach was roaring with hunger, I told them I was full. I did this so they would be able to eat as well. I enjoyed helping my mother cook. She always encouraged me to study. She remembered how girls were barred from school in her time. By 1982, things changed, and we were finally allowed to attend classes. I treasured playing with my brother and felt that life was good, especially since I knew others who experienced worse hardships.

Everything changed in 1983 when war broke out. My family fled. My parents hoped to reach Ethiopia, but my brother was only 7 years old. The journey there was far too treacherous. Instead, we headed for Kakuma, the nearest refuge. Fearing an attack on our village, my parents agonized for two days. Then, they decided to leave. We packed peanuts and water. I didn't know where we were. I think we were still in South Sudan. We walked for days until we reached Jonglei.

Suddenly, a barrage of gunfire shattered the air. Brrr, Pow Pow Pow Bang! Amidst the chaos, voices shouted, "ਸਾਰੇ ਭੱਜੋ!" Everyone run! A massive crowd surged forward, and I was violently pushed. Confused and disoriented, I spun around only to find my family vanished. I froze in shock until a man yelled, "Why are you just standing there? Run! We are under attack!" But where was my family? The rushing crowd completely separated us.I kept running until nightfall. My stomach ached with fierce hunger. Loosing my family, I felt entirely lost. Then, I spotted a small hut in the distance. A beautiful woman, about 40 years old who apparently was from Jonglei, welcomed me. "What are you doing out here alone?" she asked. After I explained my situation, she kindly took me in.

I stayed with her for a week until she warned me, "It is no longer safe here. You must move on before another attack happens. Ethiopia is too far to walk, so you must make your way to Kakuma." Leaving was hard, but I knew I could not stay. She introduced me to a group of girls traveling together. Some were bound for Kakuma, others for Ethiopia. We journeyed for three grueling months. The blazing sun beat down on us, our feet ached, and water was incredibly hard to find. At night, I would lie on the ground and stare at the stars, thinking of my little brother and the games we used to play. Every morning, I woke up and followed the other children.

After three months, we finally reached the Kakuma Refugee Camp. Looking back on that journey, I remember the endless roads and the days of starvatiI stayed with her for a week until she warned me, "It is no longer safe here. You must move on before another attack happens. Ethiopia is too far to walk, so you must make your way to Kakuma." Leaving was hard, but I knew I could not stay. She introduced me to a group of girls traveling together. Some were bound for Kakuma, others for Ethiopia. We journeyed for three grueling months. The blazing sun beat down on us, our feet ached, and water was incredibly hard to find. At night, I would lie on the ground and stare at the stars, thinking of my little

brother and the games we used to play. Every morning, I woke up and followed the other children. My feet were broken, but I kept walking, finding kindness from strangers when I was completely alone. I discovered a deep resilience within myself. I still hold my family in my thoughts every single day, hoping for the moment we meet again.

One day, a camp worker mentioned that some children might get the chance to relocate to the United States. I gripped my bag tightly and looked at her. She explained that I could have a future there if I was selected. That night, lying on my blanket under the open sky, I dreamed of going to school in America. The next morning, I stood outside, watching everyone pass by. Waiting anxiously to hear my name called.